


Friend, Please

by butterfly23



Category: Clique, Skeleton Clique - Fandom, Twenty One Pilots, Tyler Joseph - Fandom, friend - Fandom, friend please - Fandom, josh dun - Fandom, please - Fandom
Genre: Band, Gen, Music, Suicide, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-25 23:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 31,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterfly23/pseuds/butterfly23
Summary: Tyler and Josh never speak about the night they met to the public. About how they created the band. The sadness, anger, feeling of being lost. All brought back by their love to create. Friend, Please is the story of how they met, and formed the band twenty one pilots.





	1. One

“Please stand back, the approaching train will not be stopping at this station.”

Stand back. I wish I had to courage not to listen to the polite lady coming through the speakers. Instead I sit on the stone cold metal seat which commuters probably admire after a long day of work. I almost forget that I am human, not one of those tourist statues at the station which gets photos taken of it every ten minutes. The blood in my body may have well been frozen, as the bitter frost started to latch onto objects around me. 

Little foreign alien noises sparked my attention to the tracks, the pin prick lights from the oncoming train illuminating the frost bitten objects one by one. Usually you would feel the sudden hit of the wind as the train races past, but the state I was in didn’t allow that. All I knew was that it had passed, and the breeze should have hit me and made me flinch along with my frozen hands. 

Then it was silent, and I was met with the sight of a guy sat just like me on the other side of the platform. I must have blanked him to begin with. Now, I noticed how he was staring at the edge of the track. I at least tried to cover myself with a black raincoat thing, whereas this one was in a vest showing off his bare tattoo covered arms. The empty look on his face with the sniffles confirmed that he wasn’t there because he missed the last train at midnight that stopped here. He was like me. 

My eyes scanned the platforms, and apart from the cameras pointing towards us with no one checking the footage, it was empty. I stood and walked over to the bridge, telling myself nothing but one foot in front of the other, Ty. I don’t really know why. Left, right. Left, right. I kept going even when I had gotten to the top of the bridge, one of the places which had haunted my waking self for years. The little puffs of my breath made me look like a train, which made me smile to myself and almost laugh. But then I stopped. Because people who smile to themselves are crazy. 

My shoes had found their place beside the empty body. I sat, leaving a space between us and let the silence become comfortable before I broke it.

“Aren’t you cold?”

The boy said nothing. He did nothing. Not even a blink while he continued to stare at the side of the track. 

“You’ll get sick if you get too cold.” I confirmed, looking to the interesting spot he had chosen past the yellow safety line. It’s stupid, really. It’s yellow paint. How is that going to stop someone? It won’t.

“I’m Tyler.” I announced, clearing my throat a little. “Tyler Joseph.”

The shell blinked. 

“Josh.”

At the response, I smiled. “Josh. Tyler and Josh. Together waiting for the train which takes us to freedom.”

My new friend Josh looked up to me, my smiling confusing as his eyebrows narrowed. Maybe he didn’t get it. That we were the same, I mean. We both wanted the same thing. 

“The world just doesn’t really get us.” I muttered, the smile still there but washed out.

Josh wiped his cheeks with the palm of his hand. The tattoo which I saw from a distance becoming much more vibrant and clear to me now. 

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here, it was just a stupid idea.” Josh explained, sitting up and beginning to snap out of his trance. “I didn’t even bring a jacket.”

“No one really plans ahead to bring a jacket to their suicide.” 

He looked to the floor, the realisation I think was settling in. I unzipped my jacket and pulled it off, a long sleeve jumper keeping me warm as I placed my jacket on the empty seat between us. Josh looked to it, and then to me. 

“Thanks.” he mumbled, gently taking it and slipping it on. “What do we do now?”

I cocked my head a little, unsure of what he meant.

“I mean,” he started, motioning towards the tracks. “Neither of us can do it now we’ve met each other.”

My eyes looked at the tracks, my shoulders shrugging a little as I remembered that I was there for the same reason too. I tried to hide that I wanted to every day. For years. That’s why I was at that train station. But, for some reason, I wanted to talk to this Josh. Oh, how some things you plan for weeks on end turn out to be completely different to how you expect. 

“I guess we can’t.” 

Josh scratched the back of his neck, looking a little uncomfortable and awkward.

“What do you do?”

“What?” he asked, the question catching him off guard.

“What do you do? Like, job or hobby or whatever these kids call it these days.” I hoped that striking some kind of conversation would distract him of the events.

“Uh…” he started, turning a little towards me. “I drum. I mean, I’m a drummer.”

I always liked music. I guess we had that in common.

“In a band or…?”

He chuckled a bit, revealing dimples as he thought of his words carefully.

“Nah, I wish.” he cleared his throat as the overhead lady announced that it was a no smoking area. I don’t think those on a train platform at 3am would worry about smoking. “I just make up stupid beats and try to call it drumming. I used to teach just after I left school but then I just got a boring job in a coffee shop.”

I smiled, imagining him tapping on the side along to the radio and a customer impatiently waiting for their morning brew. I wonder if he could make those little patterns in the hot chocolate’s?

“What about you?” he asked, looking up to me.

Ew, my turn. “I write a lot. Poems, I guess. Lyrics. Whatever they are, I like to write them. A job? I don’t have one at the minute, I’m kind of just floating.”

“I know how that feels.” 

Quite a few minutes had passed since we spoke again, and the bitter breeze had died down a little. I don’t know what Josh was thinking, or what he planned to do after tonight. Hey, we may have bumped into each other again the next 3am that rolled around. In a way, I wish we wouldn’t. Then I wouldn’t have a reason not to and deep down I hoped that he’d find the strength to go on. 

We continued to sit in silence and let another train speed by. This time, the wind did hit my face and it made me flinch. Random thoughts were popping up in my head and the numbness had tingled away. I mean, it was still there. Heck, it was always there. But you get these moments of clarity. Moments when you say to yourself, ‘Hey, you gotta sort yourself out. You can do this’. Then there are the times where everything is thick with fog and black dirt. Those times overwhelm you and take away that moment of clarity. That’s what keeps you drowning.

“I want to hear you drum.”

The statement caught Josh off guard again, “What?”

I smiled, “Can I hear you drum?”

“Uh, okay. Yeah. I’m not very good but, yeah.” He rambled on, “I guess tomorrow you could come over?”


	2. Two

My eyes scanned the piece of paper which was messily scribbled on the previous night before I looked up at the golden number on the door. I was at the right address. Josh had invited me over to hear him drum which I was excited to do and perhaps these conversations would grow into a friendship. I’d like that, you know. I was so used to not having friends for the past few years that the thought of socialising with someone was somehow comforting. Well, that is of course if the anxiety of being a pest or burden or simply being creepy and stalker-ish towards them wasn’t present. Which was kind of never. 

I knocked on the door gently, hoping that I wouldn’t have to knock again louder and make an idiot of myself. I should have just knocked harder. Maybe they had a doorbell?

“Hi.” Josh greeted me, smiling a little as his tired eyes told a story. “Come in.”  
The door opened a little wider and I scooted in, taking in the surroundings for the first time. Josh picked up a red jacket which was lying carelessly on the table before motioning towards a room.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he started. “My Mom and Dad are on vacation and I haven’t had a chance to clear up yet.”

I smiled, “Too much on your mind?”

“Something like that.”

The room Josh took me into was an open plan square. The carpet was this dark red, and it was spotless in comparison to the world outside the room. The walls were oddly plain and cream and a little too bare. I guess that’s how Josh liked it, considering in the corner of the room sat a black kit with beaten raw drums to make it up. To one side of it sat a black box with the lid up, a pile of broken sticks accumulating inside from the nights where he hit too hard. 

Josh stood in front of it, watching as if the drum kit would grow legs and run away. “Uh, this is it.”

“Can I hear you?”  
Josh looked to me, and then nodded. “I’m not very good.” 

The boy moved around the kit as if there was a forcefield around it; a bubble keeping him from going any closer. Two drumsticks were pulled out of a drawer in the opposite corner, and he made his way back to the little black seat before making himself comfortable. 

I stood in front, watching his every move. I hope I didn’t make him feel uncomfortable. I just… I really like watching people doing something they love.

The tips of the sticks tapped each drum a few times, making a dull sound which sort of echoed round the room. A few adjustments here and there before Josh looked up to me briefly, as if asking if I was ready. I nodded him on.

Loud was an understatement. From the few hours I’d spent with him, I thought he was a quiet and gentle guy which I’m sure he was. But when I watch him now, it’s the opposite. He’s killing those drums. The sticks which are broken making complete sense as Josh used all his energy to smack each beat. He was a machine. A machine which was overworking but it still worked. 

I smiled as he hit a symbol for the last time, catching it between his fingers to stop the noise from drifting too far. All I could do was smile.

“Was it okay?” Josh asked, back to his gentle self.

I nodded, laughed a little, and then looked to him. “You are epic.”

A smile crept onto his face, like a little kid who knew he just did something he shouldn’t have. 

“Driving once again but now this time there were three men… can you make a beat with that?”

His face looked confused, and I looked around before I decided to close the lid on the broken stick box and perch on it. 

“It’s okay.” I motioned.

Josh started to tap out a beat lightly on two of the drums, looking to me approval. I smiled and begun to recite a piece I wrote called Taxi Cab. It fit. It fit perfectly and all I could do was smile while the words tried to come out my mouth in time. 

It was perfect. Almost as if it had been planned and rehearsed. We smiled as I finished the verse, my ears ringing slightly from the banging of the drums but I will tell you now that the sound we had just made was ecstasy. It was the beginning of something, but we didn’t know what it was. I think we must have spent the whole afternoon in that room, just bouncing off each other. I managed to get home that evening and write down all the words I had sewn together during our session and miraculously, I got the rest of the song. I had the main part of what I called Taxi Cab, but after that afternoon I had managed to pad it out with more lyrics. 

The thing I didn’t get was… I’d been struggling to write for months. I hadn’t touched a pen and paper for weeks. When Josh hit those drums, the words flew out my mouth like a waterfall and they fit like a jigsaw which hadn’t been cut up yet. Josh broke down the wall I’d been trying to climb over for months.

Then, once I had scribbled down the rest of the words, I picked my phone up and text him.

Me: I finished the song. You wanna hear it tomorrow?  
Josh: Damn, yeah! My place again?  
Me: I’ll be there, drummer boy.  
I left it a few minutes, and wondered if I should have just called him Josh and not some stupid nickname.

Josh: Okay, dude with all the words… wow, that was bad. See you tomorrow, bro.

“See you tomorrow.” I said aloud as if he could hear me. 

The clock actually read around 1am, and I was wanting to go to sleep rather than stay up for another few hours pondering over my life.

So, as I pulled the duvet up towards my chin, I actually felt a weird sensation glowing inside of me. I knew it wouldn’t last, and everything was far from ‘fixed’ or whatever. But I knew that I really liked Josh. It had been a long time since I last had a best friend, and I fell asleep almost praying that we would become good friends for life.


	3. Three

I didn’t like to admit it, but I was excited to go back to Josh’s that day. I had woken up and felt a little clearer. The air I drew into my lungs felt a little lighter and my head was less fuzzy. I knew that it would come back, though. Whenever I used to write, I’d kind of have this release if you will. It would stick around for a day or two, a week if I was lucky. That’s how I knew that writing was my escape, you know? It gave me that freedom. Now, I had embraced the fact that it wouldn’t last. That’s why I couldn’t feel I could write. If I wrote a song, I didn’t want it to be a song which lasted a few days. I wanted it to last a few months, years even. I couldn’t bring myself to write because if I failed and it only lasted like it had done before, I wouldn’t know how to cope. I was stuck in a circle… much like this paragraph. If any of that made sense, I congratulate you on understanding one of the simple things my mind looks into way too much.

Anyway, back to Josh.

I repeated my actions as the day before, and I waited on the doorstep for someone to answer. I never knew how long it could be before you could knock again without sounding stupid. I looked to the left, to see if there was any sign of anyone in the house. I couldn’t see anyone, but I heard a bang and yelling. That was never a good sign, I should know for all those bad days I cast on my family. I still felt guilty for upsetting them so much…

“We have to call Mom and Dad!” I heard a voice which grew louder as it approached the door. It swung open to reveal a guy, probably a little older than Josh (or younger) who looked similar to him. 

All he did was look at me. As if I was delivering pizza, but had forgotten the pizza. 

“I’m here to see Josh.” I muttered, asking it asking instead of stating. He blinked, and heard another crash from behind him. “Is everything…?”

“It’s fucking sunshine and rainbows, get in.” 

Stupidly, I stepped inside. The yelling and bangs came from Josh’s room with his kit in, and I slowly made my way to the sacred room which held that moment we captured yesterday. Outside the door stood a girl, probably around the same age as the guy (although, I was never good at guessing ages). Her eyes were pink and raw, sniffles between the heavy thuds from behind the closed door.

“Josh! Give it a rest, will you?” the guy yelled through the door as he reappeared behind me.

I felt like I’d turned up at the nativity play in a Spider-Man costume. I say no more.

“Stop yelling, it'll make it worse.” the girl whimpered.

The guy, who I now assumed was his brother or some relation, looked to her. “What do you expect me to do?”

“This may be incredibly rude and out of place for me to say but what exactly is happening?” I blurted out, the worry building up inside of me which again, was never a good thing.

The two strangers looked to me as the banging continued, Josh’s gentle voice screeching from behind the piece of wood. 

“He has these moods… he loses it.” the girl explained, flinching at every sound behind the door. “He’s put himself in hospital, and with Mom and Dad away for a while I just don't think he’s been doing okay.”

The guy sighed and put his hands behind his head. I looked to him as he calmly walked away into another room, leaving the girl to whimper again with worry. To be honest, how she was reacting was how I felt inside right now. 

My eyes scanned the door for a moment, before I took my place in front of it. I held my fist up as if I was going to knock, and waited for a moment of peace before tapping it against the wood.

“Hey Josh, it’s Tyler.” I gently said, “Can I come in please?”

The banging stopped, and I looked to the girl beside me before I realised that the harsh sounds had been replaced with sniffling much like hers. Sniffling which soon turned into sobs. 

“It’s okay, buddy. Just let me in.” My voice calmly instructed. 

Sobbing which tore right through me continued to fill the air, and it reminded me of the night a few days ago at the station. The way Josh sat there so still. So quiet. 

“Dad had a spare key made for when it was his study. Here.” A voice from behind me said, the guy reappearing and handing me the key.

I wasn’t that great when it came to responsibility, but that never really stopped me.

My hand took the key and put it in the door, turning it to the left which caused the little clicking noise to tell me it was okay. I slowly opened the door, having to push a few things out the way to be able to open it enough for me to go in. Then, I shut it and locked it from inside so the strangers couldn’t get in. It was best, I think. I heard the guy mutter something rude under his breath which made me laugh under my breath.

Then my attention drew to the figure in the corner. The sobbing, shaking Josh who was covering his head with his arms and rocking back and forth. I didn’t really register the broken, stomped, wrecked drum kit across the room along with the minimal furniture. All I did was sit down on the floor cross legged, until the sobbing had ebbed away a little.

“It’s okay to cry.” I stated, organising some of the debris from the disaster into some kind of picture on the carpet in front of me. “I don't think I cry enough, to be honest. It’s good to cry.”

I heard the sniffling pause while I listened. I hoped he was listening. 

“It’s okay to be angry, too.”  
“What do you know about being angry?” he spat back, lifting his head up.

I was a little taken back by the response, but what impacted me more was the red eyes and skeleton bones taking over his face. I didn’t show it, though. I couldn’t. That would add to the damage that had been done to this soul.

“I know that being angry is like being anxious. It eats you up, and controls you.” I answered back quietly, “Although, that is all I know about being angry.”

“Exactly, you know nothing.” Josh blubbered out, “You know nothing about how you sit there trying so fucking hard to do the best you can but it not being good enough. You know nothing about scaring your parents because you threw a chair across the room.”

Josh’s voice begun to grow louder as the sobs turned into anger again. For a moment, I thought he was angry at me. Then I remembered. I was never upset with anyone I took it out on, I was upset with myself and I needed to get it out.

His anger went on, “You know nothing about not being able to function like a normal person and you know nothing about being so alone and wishing you had friends!”

“I’m your friend.” I mentioned, looking to him.

The hurt boy looked at me in almost confusion, disbelief perhaps because of the statement. I did, in fact, know a lot about everything he accused me of not knowing. I knew that arguing wasn’t going to fix this situation, and I knew that Josh was in pain. From what, I don’t know if I wanted to know. 

“I’m your friend.” I repeated, making sure he heard me.


	4. Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and hits so far, I hope you're all enjoying it. Any feedback or suggestions are welcome <3

There’s a reason why when asked in interviews, me and Josh never tell the truth about meeting each other. We don’t really talk much about our past as friends. I mean, we do talk about it… but only the good days. The bad days were too raw and full of pain that we don’t really want to bring them up. It’s not that we don’t want to show weakness, because I’m pretty sure every emotion we’ve felt is put into a song which the world can hear. It’s because I respect Josh, and I wouldn’t want to out him on anything he felt or went through in the past. Not unless he was okay with it. I knew that he would be the same with me, and what I went through. 

“Tell me about it.” I urged him. 

He was sat up against the wall in the blitzed out room, his shirt sweaty and mixed with tears. His breathing had slowed, and the sobs were long gone but the pain was still gnawing at his bones and I could tell through his eyes.

Josh could barely make eye contact, “About what?”

“Anger. Sadness. Pain. Tell me about it.”

I saw him smirk a little, but I knew he didn’t mean it in a snarky bully way. “You’re not my therapist.”

“No,” I admitted, smiling. “But we’re not leaving this room until you talk to me.”

His eyes looked to me for a moment, before they left again and focused on the mess around him. I followed his gaze and leant back against the wall, making myself comfortable for the next hour or so.

“I can’t.”

“Okay,” I told him. “Grab a jacket, we’re going out.”

Words can be meaningful, and they can be used to such beautiful extent that they make people cry or angry or whatever intense feeling they get when exposed to those words. Like me. They help let my demons out, one by one. When written out, they can communicate those things that seem impossible to say out loud; I love words. Then, there are those who cannot communicate through words. Written down or out loud, words seem to be sucked out of them when they need them most. Words let them down, and become jumbled dictionaries in their minds. I think Josh is one of those people.

Don’t get me wrong, Josh feeling as if he couldn’t talk to me through words was completely okay. Every one works differently and has a different set of cogs in their brains. It fascinated me.

“What do you mean?” he squeaked out, almost sounding petrified. 

I stood, motioning for him to follow. Josh didn’t move. Then, I motioned again and smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Come on, it’s okay.” 

The fragile boy stood, obeying my instruction as if he were a soldier. I slowly pulled the door open to reveal two worried faces staring at us, which was expected. If he couldn’t talk to me, he couldn’t talk to them. I just needed to get him out the house for a little bit. 

“Josh what the he-“ 

“Can we do this later?” I cut in, in the nicest tone I could. This wouldn’t help him right now. Josh agreed by staying silent behind me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I just need to take him out for a bit. I’ll bring him home in one piece before his curfew.”

Joking was sometimes easier than being serious. I often did that a lot when I felt the darkness wrapping around my words.

Surprisingly, they stepped aside. Whether it was in disbelief that I had told them what to do, or that they genuinely trusted me. I think it was the first, but I like to think of the second.

I grabbed a Jacket which looked as if it would fit Josh from the hanger by the door, before pulling the front gateway to the outside open. I didn’t need to turn to see if he was there, I heard his footsteps following. 

We made it to the grocery store in silence other than footsteps and car engines. I kept looking at Josh to see how he was reacting, but each time I glanced at the guy his gaze was somewhere else. Well, the floor to be precise. Who knew it could be so interesting? When I was younger, I would look nowhere but the floor because of all the lost coins I would find. You don’t realise how much you’re missing out on until you start to look up and take in the world around you.

“The store?” Josh questioned, scratching his head. “Why are we at the store?”

I smiled, “Come on.”

Hesitating, he followed me into the terribly lit building at a slower pace. 

We made our way to the area which surrounded us in CDs. It was only a supermarket, so the Mom and Dad records from the 80s. Which, to be honest, didn’t sound bad at all. Josh continued to follow me like a lost sheep, and watched me carefully as I started picking up CDs and inspecting their track list.

“What kind of music do you like?” I asked, attempting to strike a conversation. “Classical? Rock? Pop?”

“Everything.” he muttered. “Like food, I’ll try anything.”

Humour. I like it.

I smiled, looked to him to offer reassurance, then went back to number 10 on the Whitney Houston: All The Greats list. 

“I totally agree. I’ll give anything a try, but I like to think the music I make doesn’t really fit into a genre.”

“I know all the classics from when I started, but I prefer it when I can just get a beat going and whack the heck out of my drums.” I heard him say, most likely with a smile.

Music which means something to him. Music which means something to me. That’s another thing in common, and I could tell that it meant more than anything to him right this moment.

I started making my way back to the door while explaining something to do with how music affects us when it’s relatable. I went on to explain how I had written a lot of songs, but none really fit me. Like a pair of shoes. Either too big, too wide, too small. Not the right fit. 

Then, the security alarm went off. Josh jumped out of his skin as he realised we had left the building, Whitney in my hand as I smiled and started to sprint across the car park. He had no choice but to follow, and the laughter was hard to hold back as the panic across his face grew. 

Security guards at places like that don’t really exist. CCTV does, but the cameras are always hanging off the wall or smashed. 

We reached an empty green when I finally turned and collapsed on the floor. Josh, having caught up with me, bent over and tried to catch his breath.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!”

All I could do was chuckle as I found the air I needed. I sat up eventually looking to him with a smirk on my face.

“You feel that? The thudding in your chest?” I asked, Josh looking confused. “You’re alive, Josh.”

The boy fell on the floor and looked at me puzzled.

“You’re alive.” I went on. “It’s okay to feel terrified. It’s okay to panic. Dance with somebody. Be so emotional that you want to cry and laugh at the same time. I will always love you, Josh.”

The confusion turned to hysterical laughing as I continued with the jokes, holding up the Whitney CD.

“The legend speaks the truth, Josh. Don’t deny it! She gives the greatest love of all.”  
“You are such a goof.” he commented through laughter. 

Hey, he was laughing. 

So was I.

“So what happens when they bring me in for questioning? Do I say that this crazy, Whitney loving fan made me steal her CD from Walmart?”

I shrugged, “It’ll be okay. It’s not the first time.”

“You’re a thief!” Josh exclaimed, pointing to me.

I laughed again, “I don’t make a habit of it, no. But to prove a point, yes I am a thief.”

Comments were thrown back and forth for a while as if it were the ticking of a metronome. I noticed that Josh’s mood had changed completely, and the sheet of darkness and anxiety was no longer covering him. It had been pulled away from him, almost caught in the door as we ran out the supermarket and left behind for the staff to find it and put it in the lost and found. Hopefully it wouldn’t be found.


	5. Five

Walking home that night, it was warmer. The weather and the mood. These little orange flickery lights illuminated the path back to Josh’s, while the distant sound of people living hummed. 

“I'm sorry about earlier.” Josh, now much more comfortable, spoke. 

I smiled, patted him on the arm and continued to move forward. 

“You don't have to explain yourself,” I stated. “I mean, if you want to then I'll listen. But you don't have to give me a reason if you feel you can't. Emotions get the better of us. That's okay.”

Josh looked at me before the route in front, “Thanks. I wouldn't know where to start. I just get so angry at what I'm thinking… sometimes I manage to stop myself, but often I just fall apart.”

I know what he means. We may be going through different reasons for these emotions, but they’re the same. We’re angry, scared, confused and lost. 

“I’m not okay.” He muttered, my head turning to him. “I haven’t been for a while.”

A few more steps were taken before the next sentence came from my mouth.

“Neither am I, kid.”

It was kind of a silent agreement between us.

“How do you come across so happy and wise?” Josh asked. 

Good question. 

I could go for days without talking. Sleeping. Thinking straight. I would let thoughts run through my head and my hand try to knock them out with hits. They never flew out my ears with those hits, though. It just rattled them even more and made the wasps angry. I taught myself a year or so ago to stop those hits. Or reduce them. To take that emotion and point it to something else but myself. A pen was picked up one evening and I don’t think I’ve put it down since. Everything just poured onto the paper. All of the emotions, thoughts, worries and moments of darkness into words. Poetry started to seep through the paper with the garbage I had written, and I started to see a positive in doing the writing. It didn’t cure me or whatever, but it was better than taking it out on myself and getting nowhere but deeper into the darkness.

I didn’t answer Josh. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I just didn’t know the answer. 

The next few days, we spent a lot of time together. Of course, there were moments we could breathe away from one another, and times when we needed to be alone. But it felt natural to be with one another. Besides, we got a few more of my poems finished. When I say poems… I think they more lyrics. I write them as poetry, but putting them to music or a beat brings them alive. It’s breathing oxygen into them and watching the words dance off the page. It’s really beautiful, and I think I would want to stick around to see more of that.

“What about the Teddy Bears?” Josh suggested, trying very hard to hide his smile. 

We were trying to think of names to go by. So far, nothing. Except for the Teddy Bears.

I smirked, “Josh, dude, no.” 

“Awh, I liked that one,” he muttered. 

I sit cross-legged on the floor, doodling on a notepad which I found at the bottom of my drawer. I had a few words for inspiration or something to branch off of, but nothing really sparked anything. Josh lay on his back, head hanging upside down off of his bed. It was quite an image to watch, especially when he spoke and tried not to let the blood rush to his head.

“You know, why don’t we just give up on the names? I’m sure something will come up.”

Good suggestion, Tyler.

Josh shrugged, best he could, while lying upside down. 

“So,” he started, rolling over to lay on his stomach and propping his head with his hands. “I may have got a job.”

“Wait, what?”

He smiled, “At the venue downtown. It’s like literally no money, but they said we could use the space if we wanted to during the day when there are no bookings.”

We could use the space.

“What do you mean, use the space?” I just wanted to clarify.

“Well, like… if you ever wanted to play our music out loud. We could connect a mic up and I could use their drum kit. I think they have a keyboard, too.”

Playing music with Josh. I liked the sound of that. I smiled and looked at my paper. A spark lit up.

“Could you imagine us playing sold-out arenas with our musical poetry?” I asked, smiling.

I heard him smirk, but a good smirk. “I’d probably crap my pants.”

“Let’s do it,” I stated, writing the date at the top of the paper. “This day in 2 years time, we will be headlining our own tour.”

“Ladies and gentleman,” Josh started, sitting up a bit higher. He grabbed a cap on the side, before turning his phone torch on and holding it above his head for a spotlight. “Please give a warm welcome to the stage… Tyler Joseph and Joshua Dun playing musical poetry.” 

He mimicked a crowd roaring, before playing out some beats from his mouth while trying not to laugh. I joined in, commentating on his terrible timing and entrance to the stage. It was a joke to us then. 

“I don’t think we would be able to be called the Teddy Bears,” I mumbled, smiling to myself.


	6. Six

"Are you searching for purpose?  
Then write something, yeah it might be worthless  
Then paint something then, it might be wordless  
Pointless curses, nonsense verses  
You'll see purpose start to surface"

Josh was working a lot. Which was good. But it meant there was more time of just me, and I didn’t know how to use that. I tried running, walking, sleeping, watching. Then I picked up a book. I read it. Read it again. Picked up another, and read that one twice. This was over the course of a few days, by the way. 

The door was opened to reveal a smart looking Josh. He was wearing black jeans and a black top, his coat sloppy and falling off one shoulder as if he’d run to my house. A smile and a bag full of hot food made up for being on my own most the day. 

On my own. It sounds as if I were a child who needed looking after. I’m not. I just don’t like being alone.

“I got Chinese, I know last week you said you were upset that we had Thai instead.” He joked, stepping inside and placing it on the table. 

General questions were asked about our days while we dished the food out, taking the rest upstairs to my room in the paper bag. My room would smell for days, but at least it was a good stench. 

“So tomorrow there’s no one around all day. As long as we keep it clean then we can use the main hall if we want to.” Josh explained, plonking on my beanbag and pulling out a box of rice.

The thought pondered in my mind, the haze which had been covering my head for a few days still trying to clear and let the socialising in. Nodding, I pulled out a box of noodles from the bag.

“Do you know how to use all the stuff there?”

Josh shrugged. He did that a lot. “Bits and pieces… but I figured we could just play around with it and see how it works before we play anything.”

Good plan. Because I knew nothing about any of it. 

We ate, throwing jokes and small talk around between us. One thing we definitely had in common, is that we both loved food. Probably a little bit too much. 

"We're going to get so fat eating all this takeaway food." I chuckled, throwing an empty box into my bin. Bullseye.

Josh complimented my shot with a nod, trying to follow in my shoes and completely missing the target. I smirked.

It was silent for a few minutes while thoughts rummaged through both our brains. I really enjoyed hanging out with Josh. It helped me distract myself, and it genuinely made me happy. Something I wouldn't have been able to say before meeting him. My tired eyes looked up to Josh, who was finding a piece of the Chinese packaging so interesting that he just had to tear it up into little tiny pieces.

"Hey, Tyler?" He broke it. "Can I ask you a question?"

The voice which came from him sounded alien to me, but at the same time, I was used to it. It's the voice that I had in my head which fought so hard to break through.

"Sure."

I almost thought for a second that he might not say anything.

"Do you ever think about that night at the train station?" I didn't know if I liked where this was going. "I mean if we hadn't have met each other?"

Of course, I had. It was hard to forget. But, then again, it blurred into one with all of the other midnight events. Did you know? A train can travel up to around 140 miles per hour. I want to go on, but my mind is telling me not to. Do you get the picture? 

"Do you think we would have done it?" I heard again, a lump catching in my throat and blocking any words trying to get out.

I think we would have. But I didn't want to tell him that.

"I wouldn't like to know, Josh," I muttered, sending a weak smile to him. "It's a complicated thought."

He nodded in agreement, clearing up the rest of the Chinese mess and standing up. As he stood, a thud came from the shelves behind him. A pile of books which had been sleeping on the top shelf collapsed. A pile of books which I hadn't touched in months because of the contents. 

"Sorry," Josh mumbled, bending down and picking them up.

I watched as he inspected them, taking the bag of rubbish into my own hands and throwing them in the bin. When I read books, thoughts come to my head. Stories, sentences and images. A lot of my books have annotations and scribbles in them which probably do not make a lot of sense to the naked eye. If it were anyone else looking, I would be embarrassed and urgently take them away from the person. But it was Josh.

I noticed his eyes read a passage in one of the beaten books. His eyebrows furrowed before reading it again, the other books in his other hand being dropped on my bed.

"Twenty one pilots..." Josh said quietly. He looked up at me, before repeating it again but louder. "Twenty one pilots."

Confused but remembering those words, I remained seated on the floor as I motioned for the boy to hand me the book. In my hands, I read the very same passage. Once, then twice. The annotations. Drawings around it. 

"We're twenty one pilots." I said, smiling at the book.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am so thankful for your comments, it really makes my day! Any suggestions, feedback on writing or even what you want more of is welcome. I hope you enjoy!

I'm sorry for not writing in so long. I haven't been doing too good, but a lot of positive things have happened since I last spoke to you. It's been up and down.

Numerous times, Josh and I hung out in the venue space at his work. Our fingertips ached with the number of wires we had played around with. New knowledge about where to plug this and what can go in that socket rumbled around in our head's trying to find a cosy place to fit. The manager even said we could play a few shows in the future if we wanted to. But the future for me wasn't something I wanted to think about at the minute, so I just agreed and forgot about the conversation. Josh seemed excited about it, so I had to be careful and not hurt him in the process of covering up my insecurities. 

Luckily for me, there weren't any shows we could play at for a few months. Josh had already put us on the waiting list, which I tried to forget about. The questions of whether I was good enough to be in a band constantly haunted me, and even started to seep into my dreams. I hadn't told Josh.

The time in someone's life where they felt they had to move out was also in the front of my mind recently. Not because I needed to get away from my family, but rather I needed my own area. Surrounding yourself with those who love you is key in recovering from a lot of things, but in my case, I needed to balance that with space for myself. I don't know... just the thought of being on my own terrified me, but so did the thought of being cooped up in my dark bedroom which held so many of my demons. I needed to breathe fresh air.

Due to this, I had moved out. I was right in the middle of the town, but not too far from home. It was a cheap place with two double bedrooms and a huge living room, which I mostly used for movie watching at 3 am when I couldn't sleep. 

And of course, you had to pay rent which means I got some crappy job at a pizza delivery place just a few minutes walk from the apartment. It pays just about, and it also gets me out the house.

Josh has been working lots which was amazing for him. They had gotten pretty busy because of the festivals out of town starting up, so smaller bands were discovering smaller venues which were a lot cheaper to play at than the main stage at Warped Tour. There were also cheap places to stay, and cheap pizzas to buy. Tips for me.

All of this sounds good, I know. It was. A lot of these steps were huge to take. Not because it was my first job or first apartment and I was young or stupid, but because mentally my health wasn't all there. The first night in my new place, I relapsed in many ways. It was scary how easy it was, but terrifying at how hard it would be to stop. I had a desk in my living room, with a huge blank notepad on. I haven't written in weeks and every time I breathe in a sharp pain hits the bottom of my stomach. It feels like life itself is squeezing the life out of me through my nostrils. Gross, I'm sorry. Again, I'm sorry for not writing in so long. I picked up my pen to write this because Josh came over last night for the first time, and all I could do was sob and lose all air within me as I confessed to everything.

Explaining yourself to someone for the first time is difficult enough the first time, so I cannot describe it to you. For that, I apologise, but I don't think I want it written down. When Josh first came through the door, he clicked that something wasn't right. Without thinking he pulled me in for a hug, and everything inside me crumbled. It was meant to be a happy, housewarming evening. But instead we fell to the floor and I clung to him for dear life which was trying so hard to leave me. 

After the sobs of pain had withered down to white knuckles and a wet face, Josh held my hands and ordered me to talk to him.

"Talk to me." he said, his fresh eyes looking full of hope and warmth.

As the time went on, the sun had left and it was dark from the lack of light in the room. He never let go of my hands which were shaking and itching to be somewhere harmful. I needed to confess everything. From the first time I felt the darkness creep in, right up until an hour before Josh came. I needed to rid it from my body and throw up (metaphorically) all of the bad. It didn't cure me, but it was something I needed to do. 

Much like the words I said, I couldn't tell you Josh's response. The words he chose were careful, but the right ones I wanted to hear. There weren't too many of them, either. I could listen and take them in, but not drown and become overwhelmed.

Anyway, the reason I am writing to you now is that of those words. The pipe was unblocked and I could pick up a pen again. Not to write lyrics, but to write to you. 

I'm sorry this has been so vague, and I promise to try better. I want to write more frequently, even if no one ever sees what I'm writing. I needed to capture everything that happened between now and then so I could remember where I have been when looking back. The good parts, though. Not the words which I can hear in my head. I'll keep those for a song.


	8. Eight

Part of Josh's idea to help feel motivated and on top was to start jogging. He'd actually gotten pretty into it and went every night. Then he invited me to join, and stupidly I said yes. I guess it was another reason to get out of the house other than work. 

We had paused beside a river for a drink, and to take in the silence of 11 pm at night. The bright street lights rippled on the water surface, both of us sitting on a bench in our shorts and tank tops. 

"How are you feeling today?" Josh asked timidly. He didn't ask a lot, because he knew it was always difficult for me to talk about it.

"Better, I guess. I've been writing more."

"Have you... you know?"

I did know.

"No."

Pause.

"How about you?"

Josh looked at me, then back to the water. He'd been doing really well from what I had heard of his days.

"Good. It's still there, but I feel like it doesn't own me."

The thought that Josh felt positive made me smile, as I know how dark it can get. We will always be with that darkness, whether it be suffocating us or at the back of our minds in a dusty corner. I’m glad I had Josh for when it came out of that corner.

“Would you want to move in?” I blurted out, turning my head towards Josh.

He looked at me, confused by the random change of subject. But I knew his answer when he started smiling.

“That would be pretty awesome.” Josh mumbled, looking to his hands in slight embarrassment of his happiness.

I won’t lie, I think I was just as excited at my spontaneous question as he was. 

Asking Josh to move in would, I guess, be a safety blanket for me. When Josh was around, I wanted to clear my head of the mist. I had a reason to smile instead of faking it until I made it. That’s how I feel about it now after actually asking him. I wouldn’t feel so alone.

“Come on,” he prompted, standing up again. “We’ve still got a fair bit to go.”

And we did. Physically, yes. We had another 40 minutes of jogging to get back to his place. Mentally, we did too. It seemed that the night at the station was more than just a moment to be saved from. 

Eventually, I made it home to my apartment. Soon to be mine and Josh’s. I let the shower run over my head like water off a duck’s back, taking away anything which would haunt me during the night. I thought about Josh, and how he perhaps came to where he was in the world. It was none of my business, but stories and truths about the darkness is what I found interesting. I liked to write about mine, in many different ways. Whether it be through a metaphor or actual word to word truth. Making something out of words fascinated me.

After drying off and getting into some warm clothes, I looked to my desk I had attempted to set up in the living room. There were a few bits of paper now covered in words, neatly paper clipped together beside the blank pages. For my birthday last year, I received a beautiful writing set. Calligraphy pens, ink, good quality paper. All that jazz. I had actually forgotten all about it until I moved out, so it was a surprise when I unpacked it and set it on the desk all by itself. They look expensive, but they’re pretty nice to write with.

I do admit that I had left a few boxes unpacked… which just sat in the corner. My hands started rummaging through them to find anything interesting, but most of the contents were clothes or odd socks. You know, the items that sum up the youth of today. My eyes paid attention to a little round white thing, which soon turned out to be an old lamp I used when I was younger to draw. My bedtime was too early for me, so I always used this lamp under my bed covers to stay up until the late hours and create pictures only my eyes would see. Back then, the pictures didn’t make sense to me. I just made what I saw in my head. Now I look back and it just clicks into place at how weird and wonderful they were. They’re still with me, locked away somewhere.

The lamp brought back that nostalgic feel, so I had to pull it out the box and place it on my desk. After plugging it in harshly and switching it on, it lit up the area with a soft yellow glow. A soft yellow glow which cast shadows onto the paper I would soon write on and build up stories for future eyes to see. 

It was as if my chair called my name. I do not even remember sitting down and picking up my favourite pen, but I do know that the words were flowing from me so easily. Fluid. 

'Hello, we haven’t talked in quite some time.  
I know I haven’t been the best of sons,  
And although I’ve been travelling in the deserts of my mind… I haven’t found a drop of life.'

It was as if I had never stopped. It had turned into a need, and I was addicted.


	9. Nine

It was a warm day. A good day. I had the windows open in my apartment, the blue sky welcoming the day’s adventure. Box by box, Josh was slowly moving in and the excitement of it all was tingling our bodies. Glares were shot at me numerous times as I chuckled at the lack of organisation. Boxes were labelled in pencil, but when opened they had nothing to do with what was supposed to be in there. Clothes weren’t folded, wires were all tangled and one of his shampoo bottles had exploded. Impressive.

“It’s not my fault, I never could fold clothes.” Josh quietly said through a laugh while passing me items of clothing one by one. 

I folded them as best I could, before packing them into one of his drawers. All his furniture from his bedroom was here, and most his boxes. His drum kit was still at the house but he mentioned something about ‘decorating the baby’s room’ before moving it in. Again, I laughed. Quite a bit at that one. 

“I have work for a few hours tonight, but we can do something when I get back if you like.” I suggested, placing another top into its new home. “We can go out?”

Josh passed another. “I have work tomorrow morning. There’s a gig on tomorrow night with lots of different bands, so there’s going to be a lot of work to be done before they get there and trash the place.”

I smirked at the thought. “That’s cool. I can bring pizza back and we can watch something?”

Josh smiled at that one. “That would be awesome. They have some good movies at that cheap store around the corner, I’ll wander over there later. Horror or Sci-Fi?”

“Romance.” I said with a joking smile.

“Ew, you like romance?”

“No, the kissing makes me feel uncomfortable.” was my reply with a laugh.

We went back and forth until we found a genre we both liked. Luckily, it wasn’t too hard. I wasn’t a big film watcher, but I wouldn’t say no to one. Except if it was a romance. Who wants to see an extreme close up of two people exchanging saliva? Ew.

Work wasn’t as boring and dragged out as it usually is. I was grateful for that. As soon as I stepped foot out of the apartment, I was stepping back in and pulling my jacket off before hanging it up. I heard noise from the kitchen, accompanied by the sweet sound of music. As I untied my laces I heard the occasional drum on the fridge door or work surface, the microwave dinging as I entered the room. 

“Salted or sweet?” I asked, opening the fridge up and pulling out two bottles of Sprite.  
Josh took one of the bottles and nodded thanks, “Sweet. I have salted as well, though.”

A bowl was filled up with the hot white pieces of corn, a few pieces being thrown into Josh’s mouth.

“Here, just listen to this.” I started, a spark itching to be played.

I walked into the living room, Josh following with the bowl of popcorn, two glasses and the bottle of dizzy. It was quite impressive to see, actually. Once he set them down on the small table and took a seat, I hopped onto the small stall in front of the keyboard I had picked up second hand a few days ago. I switched it on at the wall and a little static noise indicated that it was indeed on. A few fingers pressed down on the white keys, terrible notes piercing the air before I cleared my throat and spread my fingers over the correct keys. Alternating between notes, I began to softly sing my poetry I wrote the other day.

I managed to catch a few glances of Josh while I played and saw his fingers moving as if he was drumming. I think it was unintentionally. I carried on for a few more moments as I came to the end of my words. Playing them out loud with music… it was like I relived the feelings I felt when I wrote them but knowing that the music protected me. It allowed me to feel those emotions I was so used to but when the song finished, so did the feelings. 

Turning to Josh after the song left us in silence. He looked at me with a blank face and I didn’t think he was going to say anything at all.

“I wrote that before you moved in… it’s called Addict With A Pen.” I explained, “I’ve been working on the music while you were at work.”

His eyes left mine and looked to the floor while he soaked in the notes he had just heard. I was worried he would think it was too deep or dark. I was worried he didn’t like the words. I was worried he didn’t like the tune.

“I really love it.” he mumbled out, looking up. “We have to record it. Right now.”

“Right now?” I questioned, confused as of what he meant.

“Here.” he started, taking his phone out and pulling up the voice recorder. “Just so we remember.”

It took us a few takes to get into sync with each other, but we eventually made a terrible quality recording of this song I had just shared with Josh. The thought of ever sharing this with anyone else other than my best friend terrified me, but also gave me a glimmer of hope. If it helped me, then it could help others. I would hope so, anyway. I want to help others. More than myself. I really hope I can do that one day.


	10. Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY TRENCH DAY enjoy chapter ten <3

After recording the song we continued with our movie. Both of us could not make sense of what was going on, but that made it better. We laughed the whole way through and made jokes about the characters and their poor life decisions. I had to stop myself a few times when the thought of ‘what are you laughing at’ popped into my head but Josh soon pushed it away. I felt safe with him. I felt as if he could protect me and I could protect him.

The next morning we woke up and cooked breakfast together. Let me tell you, Josh eats a heck load of bacon. I was slightly worried for how much we would go through between grocery shops. We were both sat up the table picking at the last of our food exchanging small talk before we started to make our plans. 

It was decided that we would head to Ikea to pick up a few things for the apartment. In reality, we just wanted an excuse to get out the house and mess around. Within the hour we had collected a shopping cart and were making our way around the maze like aisles. 

“So, do you have any more songs hidden away up your sleeve?” Josh asked, pushing the trolley in whatever direction it would roll.

I shrugged, falling into step beside him. “More like segments…”

“I’m not a lyrical genius but if you want me to take a look then I’m cool with that.”

A nod was sent his way as we carried on to the bedding section in silence.

“I have one called Holding On To You, actually. That’s the only complete one I have.” I muttered out, hoping he wouldn’t hear me.

He did.

“Can I hear it tonight?”

“Sure.”

Josh smiled and took note of the rather cheap pillows beside him on the display. He must have loaded about 6 into the cart before moving onto the bean bag section. Yup, we had one of those too.

“I like to be comfortable.” He said through a laugh, stuffing the bean bag into the cart. 

We ended up buying a whole new bedding set for both of us, including duvet and covers. The cart was piled high before we even got to the furniture which left me to grab another so we could fill it up with meaningless pieces of wood. 

“What do you want to do with your life?” I blurted out, forgetting that sometimes the questions that pop into my head are better off staying there.

Josh looked to me, leaning on the handle of the cart. We had never really spoken too much about our futures. I know that deep down he didn’t want to think about it purely because it seemed too far out of reach. I felt the same and wondered if since our first meeting he had felt what I did.

“I guess when it comes to careers… I don’t really know. I’d like to work in a music shop I guess. That sounds pretty cool.” Josh explained, looking around at the neatly put together bedside cabinets. 

“No,” I shot back, clearing my throat. “Like… what do you want to do with your life?”

I hoped he would understand.

The boy looked at me, the same expression he had on his face before I introduced myself. But there was a tiny spark. Tiny, but it was there. He did understand.

“I want to make people happy.” he softly spoke, his gaze dropping from me and switching to where he was headed. “To be a friend.”

A smile appeared on my face as I took note of his words. We headed on in silence for a few more moments before I spoke up again.

“I want people to understand me. To look at me and say ‘hey, I feel that too’. That would mean everything to me.”

Josh nodded in agreement, “I feel that, too. I get you.”

A smile again took over my face as I looked down. “You’re a pretty good friend, I guess.”

“Well, thanks.” He chuckled out, “This got pretty dark for an Ikea trip.”

We continued down the aisles and picked up a few more things for the apartment. The cheapest but sturdiest of options were in our cart and we must have spent a good few hours in that place. I was beginning to forget what the outside world looked like.

After we paid and loaded the car up, I noticed Josh had become almost silent. I knew that it was a sign of unease or simply becoming stuck in your own mind. I sat behind the wheel and started the car, the radio blasting out some rock song. Immediately, I shut it off.

Once we were out the parking lot, I decided to dive in.

“Are you alright?”

Josh almost didn’t move. I saw his eyes look up to the road ahead, the long silence filling up with the hum of the engine.

“Yeah,” he started, clearing his throat. “I was just thinking about the night we met.”

The night we met. The night we couldn’t take it anymore. The night the light came back to us.

“What about it?”

Again, there was a long silence. But I know that this time he was pondering over the words he needed to get out of his system.

“I thought I was dead.” I heard him mumble softly, “I thought it was impossible to do anything else.”

It was my turn to leave the silence a little while before he continued.

“Everything was so worthless. It felt like there was rope wrapped around me really tight and I couldn’t take a breath without choking and drowning. It was like…”

He trailed off, but I knew what he meant. 

“It was like you needed to switch everything off. To stop time. Figure out the problem without going forward. I get you.”

Josh scratched his head, “I’ve never met someone else who felt like me. I thought I was on my own.”

“You’re never alone. I know what you mean. We’ll figure it out.”


	11. Eleven

We spent the next few weeks just writing, playing and recording our songs on our phone so we wouldn’t forget. Josh had made the apartment more whole… does that make sense? While I was alone in it, it felt like a shell. Now Josh was there, it felt alive and full and that helped me keep my head above water. Anyway, we had been busy.

We found ourselves getting ready to do this show at the venue Josh worked at. We spent the entire morning going over what songs to play and I just couldn’t find the right flow. If we started with one, we couldn’t end with another… it had to tell a story. If not, what was the point?

After an order was decided, we grabbed some clean clothes and showered and all that jazz. I can imagine we would get really sweaty and dirty again but that’s fine. I sometimes wonder why we do things like shower. We’re going to get dirty again, so why bother? But then the idea of smelling and feeling dirty comes into my head and I want to shower. Or take a bath. Anything to get me clean after those thoughts.

We had been at the venue for a little while, doing a quick soundcheck before the bar and doors opened. People trickled in and found their friends as the atmosphere buzzed louder by the minute.

Our first show. Boy, I was terrified. The music me and Josh had been playing for weeks was actually going to be played to people. Real living people who breathe. I don’t think I slept the night before because of the thoughts of us being booed off stage filled my mind to the top. My mind wanders and thinks up things which only I would think of. Things which do not make sense to anyone but me. What if the audience just thought I was weird? 

We were both sat backstage in a small room while the first act were on. The night consisted of 3 new acts showcasing their talent to the small world of Columbus, Ohio. We were last to go on. The distant sound of music filled our ears, but the heart thudding in my chest was much louder. 

Josh had been watching the first few songs before he shuffled back into the room I was sat in. His face was pale and a smile was long gone.

“How are they?” I asked, trying to get him to show a sign of life.

He nodded as if to say they were good, before taking a deep breath. He wasn’t okay.

“What’s wrong?” 

He didn’t respond, looking around briefly before heading to the door. “I need some air.”

I jumped up and followed him to the stage door, nearly catching it as he flung it open and let the cold night air in. He took another deep breath. 

“I can’t do it.” he mumbled out, sounding breathless. “I can’t.”

I looked at him not knowing what to say. I was terrified, too. But I wasn’t struggling to breathe over it. We had spoken about stuff like this. I mean, anxiety and panic attacks. I had never experienced it with him, though, and I was worried about him. I didn’t know if it were best to force him to go out, or to bail. 

“Wait here.” I blurted out, pulling the stage door open again.

Earlier in the evening I had seen something which, I guess, could help. On the side there were two balaclava’s which the crew were using for an odd reason. Something to do with ‘ruining the stage illusion’. Anyway, I grabbed them and made my way back out to Josh.

“They won’t know it’s you. You can take it off when you’re ready.”

Josh looked at me puzzled, the white complex still haunting him. 

“Dude, it’s a mask. It’s not going to help this suffocating feeling.” 

I held it there with force, forcing him to take it as the air filled his lungs again. 

“We have to do this.”

“Okay.” I heard him mumble, gently taking the mask.

The drums were ten times louder. The mic was echoing through my veins. The words were flowing from my mouth as if they were itching to escape. Sweat was dripping off of me, my shirt showing patches within minutes and my balaclava being pulled off after the first song. It was dark. metaphorically and literally. It was intense. But it was also a relief. The music found it’s way through me like a snake, filling my head up with this feeling of being alive. My head shook, twitched and just went along with it and the crowd loved it. Well, at least I think they loved it.

“This is our last song, we’ve been twenty one pilots. Thanks for listening.”

My fingers found the notes on the piano before looking over to Josh, his t-shirt a different colour because of how sweaty he was.

“Please give it up for my best friend, Joshua Dun.” I almost screamed into the microphone.

The cheers filled the room up and could’ve filled many more, the smile across my face insanely huge. Josh looked to me before grabbing the top of his mask, pausing before pulling it off to reveal his red cheeks. All he could do was smile, the first chords of our last song pulsing through our veins. 

During that last song, I realised a few things. Josh was hitting his drums harder and faster. I was screaming the lyrics. Hitting the piano keys. I felt like I had to push all this energy out of me that I never knew I had and it looked as if Josh was doing the same. Neither of us could keep still and I knew then. I knew that we had to do this more. More and more until everything bad in us got yanked out of our systems and into their concrete coffins for rest. I couldn’t write this entry fast enough to tell you all about it. The new senses and emotions and inspiration.

I wanted more.


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you still enjoying it? Any little comment makes my day <3

I could breathe again. The cobwebs in my lungs had been blown away and the migraine in my head had lifted.

After we got off stage, I looked to Josh. I let out a breath and pulled him in for the tightest, sweatiest hug. A smile across my face was all I could think of doing in response to this pure euphoria I had just felt.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Josh exclaimed, pulling away from the hug. The smile plastered across my face was reflected on his and that only made mine brighter.

We stood there laughing for what seemed like hours, wrapping our cables up and just living. Breathing and laughing and smiling. God, thank you. Thank you for letting us continue our stories together and not letting us end them that night. 

“You were sick, dude.” I shot to Josh, his face turning a little red. He knew he was sick.

“It felt good,” was all he could say through the smile. 

“Hey,” I heard a voice, “there are some kids out the front who wondered if they could say hi.”

I turned to see a guy dressed in dark clothes, tattooed and covered in wires from the show. 

“Us?” I questioned, looking to Josh and then back to the guy.

He nodded, “You’re twenty one pilots, right?”

“Uh… yeah, we are.”

We picked up our bags and made our way into the standing area of the venue which was packed a long hour ago. The guy walked off back to whatever he was doing, leaving us with two guys and a girl who smiled back at us.

“Hi, oh my god you were incredible! I just wanted to say how amazing you sounded and it was so full of emotion and passion and I loved every second of it!” blurted out one of the guys, the girl nodding in agreement.

I stood there and listened to the gushing emotion these people had for us, Josh slightly behind me but taking it all in, too. We just played music and we were being treated as if we had saved someone’s life. My brain started to tug at the happy thoughts and plant questions of doubt and I tried so hard to push them away.

“Thank you.” I heard Josh say, smiling at the three of them. “It was our first time playing. I’m Josh and this is my best friend, Tyler.”

The negative thoughts were snapped away when Josh stepped in as if he knew that I was struggling to comprehend what was going on. We shook their hands, took some pictures and then they started to leave. Josh sent me a small smile which I returned, but it soon faded. As soon as one domino falls, so do the rest.

“Hey, uh, I’m Mark. I just wanted to say that you really rocked tonight.” the quieter of the guys said, letting the others walk off out of the venue. 

“Thanks.” I squeaked out, nodding.

“This may sound stupid and weird but… I’m really into videography and music and if you ever needed any like, videos or edits done then it would be cool to work together.” he explained, handing us a business card which looked as if it had been chewed by a dog.

I read the words on the card and looked up to Mark, smiling. “Thanks, dude. We’ll let you know.”

He smiled gently and waved one last time before turning, jogging to catch up with his friends. 

“What just happened?” I asked Josh, looking to him. 

We both stood there for a moment trying to juggle with our minds. What did just happen? We were high on the energy from the show but actually speaking to people who watched was weird. They enjoyed the show. We just played to see what would happen. I expected to be booed off the stage, but they wanted more. Just like I did. 

Once we were finally home and showered, again, we sat in the living room in next to darkness. The only light which seeped into the room was from the hall, the side of Josh’s face illuminated and the other in complete darkness. My brain still struggled to take in the day. The extreme high took me to a place I had never been before. A new world where everything was bright and loud and over the top. A place where I wanted to go more to explore what was there and how to take this feeling and bottle it up for myself. Then the precise moment my brain tried to pull me down. To spin me in circles, blindfold me and strap me down. We sat there in silence for what must have been an hour.

“Thanks for making me go out there.” Josh said, looking at me. “I needed that.”

I nodded, smiling and then letting it drop. I knew he had to do it. He would be so disappointed and angry at himself if he didn’t. I didn’t want that to happen. 

“What did you think?” he asked.

I waited, figured out my thoughts, then turned to him.

“I felt alive.” I started, “I felt as if I could breathe. I felt as if it made sense.”

The boy nodded in response, smiling. 

“But I just don’t understand.” I then mumbled, looking to my hands. “What’s the point in playing music? You play it once and that moment is gone. It’s all just chemicals in our brains.” 

Josh kept his eyes on me, thinking of some words to comfort me. 

“That’s why we get up there and do it again. To find that moment.” he said, nearly inaudible. “We do it again and again until we find a point.”

I hope we can play again soon to see if that feeling is still there. I really hope it is because to go from a high that big to almost nothing… I needed something to hold on to.


	13. Thirteen

Dancing over the white keys, my hands found tunes that my ears had never heard. Tunes that didn’t make sense or feel right, but every so often I’d find a set that would be clear. I wrote them down, then moved on. I wasn’t trying to find anything but rather just distract my mind and, it worked.

I cleared my throat, looking over my shoulders as if someone would be there to catch me at one of my most vulnerable moments. Josh was at work, and the apartment was empty. I started to play notes, humming along. Attempting to follow the keys, my hum came to a halt. My hands abruptly stopped and dropped to the top of my thighs. Clearing my throat again, I picked up my hands. 

Hovered above the keys. 

Made contact with my fingertips as gentle as I could.

Pressed down and let my hand go with the flow.

My hum turned into a note and continued for a few more moments before words fell out. I shocked myself at the choice of words, but they were natural. Quickly, I stopped and grabbed a notepad and pencil. Scribbling the words down, I tried the process again. Over and over. More words which made sense. I even closed my eyes and found the keys on their own, smiling to myself as I repeated some phrases to see what they felt like dripping from my tongue. Were they smooth? Sharp? Were they me or were they someone else?

The swearing coming from Josh pulled me from my safe haven, my eyes shooting open. A loud bang ripped through the room from the door being slammed, Josh dropping his bag next to the coat rack. I turned, seeing the poor guy being overtaken by this blood-red anger.

“Why aren’t you at work?” I asked.

Josh shot me a glare, “I got fired.”

I stood, not sure how he would react to this whole situation. The words which flowed so easily a few moments ago were struggling to even soak into my voice box.

“I don’t know why or how but they didn’t want me working there anymore… I worked hours which I didn’t even get paid for just so they would keep me and I could learn more. I offered to do extra jobs or do extra shifts and they still didn’t want me!” 

The boy started to yell, his hands in fists and his agitated body starting to pace. 

“Josh, it’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, nothing is okay!” he shouted, itching to hit something.

“It might not be right now but it will be, it’ll be okay.”

“Stop trying to make everything okay! You can’t, alright? This is my fault! I’m the one who got fired!”

Silence fell on the room around us, the gaze Josh held on me showing instant regret. The fists unclenched for a moment and his facial expression softened. I didn’t want to admit it, but I didn’t know how to help him in that moment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, Ty…”

I nodded, “I know.”

Feeling the guilt consume him, he left the living room and closed himself off in his bedroom. I stood there and waited. For what, I’m not sure. When I first talked to him in his house when he was angry, I knew what to say. Or at least I knew what to try to say… now, I’m struggling to feel worthy enough to go and talk to him. I don’t feel that my help is what he needs or even enough. Instead, I sit back at the piano and stare and the keys, hoping they may tell me what to do.

My shoulders raised a little as I took a deep breath in, my eyes switching their focus to the world outside the window. Blue sky, no clouds. A few planes and birds, but just blue. Not a baby blue or dark blue… just, sky blue. I wondered how we named colours?

My daydream was yet again interrupted by the sound of a crash from Josh’s room. I flinched a little at the thought of what it could be and how much damage he had done. Something that I did know is that when the sniffles and sobs quietly filled my ears, I needed to leave him for a while. This instinct told me to let him be alone. Not in a cruel way, but for him to process how he’s feeling and stuff. Sometimes when I felt bad about being alone, I needed to be alone in order to figure out how to stop feeling alone. I hope that makes sense to you.

Gently, my fingertips found some chords. They pressed down once, twice, three times. The same chords were pressed over and over like someone tapping their finger impatiently, my mind wandering and trying to block out the sound of Josh hitting the wall occasionally with something. Hopefully, it was a ball instead of his fist.

With those notes being pressed upon, I looked to the window again. Blue sky. Fresh air.  
“Together, let’s breathe.” I spoke, another thud from Josh’s room. “Together, to the beat.”

One hand left the keyboard and started tapping on the side of the seat I was perched on, creating a metronome sound. The other hand continued to tirelessly repeat the same chords.

“But there’s hope out the window, so that’s where we’ll go.”

I stopped and wrote down the words, the chords underneath in a scruffy manner. My hands returned to the keys.

“I’m trying, I’m trying to sleep… but I can’t when you have…”

I stopped again. There weren’t any words ready to come out my mouth to finish that sentence and I wasn’t sure why. Furrowing my eyebrows together, my hands sat on top of my thighs again as I turned to Josh’s door. The thuds had stopped again, and the sniffling had replaced it fully. I can imagine him sat there on his bed, hands sore and bruised. Tears down his face. I’ve been in that situation many times before in the past. Not knowing what to do or where to go. Who to talk to. How to go forward. I felt this weight push down on my chest and wrap around my body and in that moment I only wished that I’d had one thing to stop it all.

“but I can’t when you have, guns for hands.”

The lyrics weren’t important. I would tuck it away in my brain to stop it from falling away from me, but my legs stood me up and took me over to Josh’s door. Softly, I knocked. I danced my hand over the door handle for a few seconds before actually letting myself in, revealing Josh sat on the side of his bed just as I had imagined. His hands were over his face and he was propping his elbows on his knees. There was a hole in one of his closet doors, the thin Ikea materials showing their true colours. 

Usually, you would say something. You would give the person something to listen to or a solution to their problem. I loved getting problems to solve with words. It was my favourite thing to do and studying words could be fascinating. They could be powerful and full of emotion. Or they could be meaningless. There’s a fine line between the two.

Instead of overwhelming Josh with big words of life lessons, I perched on the side of his bed next to him. When he felt the weight shift where I sat down, he wiped his eyes and tried to put on a brave face without looking embarrassed. But the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

I put my arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arm slightly. There were no words for this situation, that’s why I couldn’t find them. It just needed time and for Josh to know he wasn’t alone. That was a lesson for me. Sometimes you can’t always find the words to fix the problem because there are none. But there are other ways to help fix the problem. I’d never really had the friends to learn that. But, although I had just learnt this lesson, I still had something to say.

“We’re going to take over the world, Josh. This is just the beginning.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. It means a lot. I'm sorry if some of these chapters seem rushed or out of place, I haven't been feeling great and I've just needed to write. I hope you enjoy and get some references to past and present songs/performances.

“Come on.” I instructed, looking to Josh who was still sat on the side of his bed. “I want to try something.”

By now, Josh had calmed down considerably. His eyes were still raw and he had patches on his face from crying, but his breathing had returned to normal and he could speak in sentences. This idea popped into my head, the chords I found earlier playing over and calling for me.

He hesitated but followed anyway. I lead him to the living area and I stood in front of his drum kit which was tucked away in the corner. Josh hadn’t been able to play as much as he’d wanted to because of work, but I needed him to try this thing.

“What are we doing?” He mumbled, scratching his head, the rawness still coming from his voice box.

“Hit them as hard as you can.”

He looked to me confused, his feet still planted to the floor. I motioned for him to sit down, and eventually, he did. Timidly, he picked up his sticks. The look on his face was that of unease. He looked lost.

“It’s okay, just hit them.”

Almost looking for reassurance or permission, Josh’s eyes drifted from me to the drums in front of him. The sticks were held in the air for quite some time, but we had it. This was something he needed to do and this couldn’t be rushed.

“Hit them.” I repeated.

I smiled after I flinched at the first bang, forgetting how loud these things could be. A few more were hit and he stopped.

“Do it again, but louder.”

“Seriously, what are we doing?” Josh questioned, looking tired.

“Hit them louder.” I told him, more assertive this time.

I hope I didn’t scare him, but he obeyed. Josh hit the drums louder, faster and harder. This time, he didn’t stop. He continued to pound the drums and started to focus on what he was doing, a beat appearing. 

I smiled, “Keep going!”

This thing was building inside of me and I had a feeling it was building inside of Josh, too. The sticks occasionally hit the symbol, the high crash shooting through my body every time. 

“Louder! Come on!” I shouted, Josh smiling and hitting them even harder. 

I started to jump around and yell at him to hit the drums faster and make the earth shake with vibrations. That’s when I saw a smile spread across Josh’s face, my own overtaking my body. I started laughing. Laughing so much that I forgot everything else around me.

“Okay, okay Josh, okay!” I shouted, holding my hands up and changing the laughter to a serious tone. “Stop, come here.”

Once Josh stopped bouncing around, I pulled one of his drums away from him. I didn’t want to stop the flow, so I quickly pulled his drum kit apart piece by piece. Much to his protest. I arranged 4 drums and stood on the other side of them, grabbing myself some sticks.

“Repeat what I do.” I said, hitting some silly little pattern. 

I knew I was confusing the hell out of this boy, but he was smiling. The pattern was repeated and I hit it again, a little harder and extended. Then Josh took over, adding another few hits to the pattern. We went back and forth for a while and then, when Josh was hitting them hard enough, I stepped back. I stepped back and let him beat the crap out of the drums so much that his drumstick flew out his left hand, instant laughter coming from him as he hit the drum with one stick. 

The last few dents were made in the drum and he stopped, standing up straight to catch his breath. I stood there smiling like an idiot, his hands being put behind his head as he laughed. 

“Point your anger at music.” I simply said, “Not yourself.”

The laughter stopped, leaving a smile across his face. I hoped he was taking in those words and realising that he could use his anger in a positive way. I guess I was a hypocrite because I don’t think I would be able to take my own advice. I guess I’m a hypocrite in many ways. But if Josh could just direct his anger at something else… how he feels, how he reacts, could become something positive. 

“It’s okay to feel stuff. Just please don’t let it hurt you.” I almost whispered, the smile on my face starting to fade at the serious subject change.

He looked at me, blinking. Processing the words. Keeping the smile on his face. 

His hands returned to his side, “Thank you.”

That’s all he could say.


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a visual of the fanfic over on my twitter (chlorineriley) and I would love you to check it out. It's my pinned tweet, so it'll be there. Thank you for sticking by me.

The next few weeks were quiet. Uneventful. Josh was looking for another job he could do, whereas I kept delivering pizzas one by one and writing songs. Whenever I wasn’t at work, we would be playing music or thinking up ideas. Storylines flooded with paragraphs of words. Hidden meanings, symbols, lessons. I was lost in this new world we had created and I actually felt good. Heck, I felt great. 

Frustration kept seeping into Josh’s blood, his quiet self appearing every few days. We spoke a lot about how he felt and even how I felt and it was comforting to be able to discuss topics in a safe environment. We spoke about how things fluctuated from good to bad and how everything happened for a reason. Well, at least, we hoped.

“There are literally no jobs in this town apart from night shifts down the road.” Josh sighed, shutting his laptop off again. “This is stupid.”

I sat up, putting my phone down. “You’ll find something.”

“Hm.”

Josh picked up the TV remote, flicking through some channels before leaving it on some news show. There were the usual reports on the weather, but then they started to speak a language which I understood. The room was silent, these words swimming out of the TV and straight to my ear drums as Josh texted away on his phone.

“Next, we take a look backstage with the world’s most talked about pop singer on her tour which could be coming to a city near you.”

The woman on the TV spoke words which sung in my ears. They connected up all the loose wires and planted an idea in my head so big that I thought my brain would grow in size.

“Josh,” I started, tapping his arm to get his attention. “That’s it.”

I looked to him and the texting stopped, his confused face watching me and waiting for an answer.

“What?”

“You don’t need to get another job.”

Again, he waited for an answer. 

“We need to start touring.” I explained, the spark appearing in his eyes too. “We need to get out there and play music.”

Talking about it, I could almost feel that feeling of relief I got onstage that night. It was at the tip of my tongue and I needed it that second.

“We’ve played one show.” Josh stated.

I nodded, “Okay… we book festivals and stuff, we make some videos as a kind of portfolio and we just go travelling.”

If this idea was planted in my head a few months ago, I would have laughed and made some joke about not being around. Travelling was a big thing and putting ourselves out on stage in front of a lot of people was vulnerable. The old me would have said we weren’t good enough, but the present me somehow needed a new purpose. It needed the chance to do something, for no reason other than to keep himself reaching for that feeling. 

Josh was quiet for a moment, looking to the television and then back to me. I knew the cogs in his brain were spinning, trying to make sense of things. We had nothing to hold us back. I could easily quit delivering pizzas. All we needed was a van and a place to drive to.

“Let’s do it.”

I smiled at the confirmation which bounced off of him. We spent the rest of the day writing ideas down. Songs we could play, where we could go, who we could speak to about our ideas. We ended up ordering pizza and continuing our talks, the buzzer to the front door snapping us out of this insane world we were sewing together.

“Pizza.” I stated, placing my pen down and standing up, grabbing my wallet and moving to the door.

The pizza was passed to me and I handed the guy some money. With a tip. Us pizza guys have to stick together.

“Thanks, dude.” I muttered, smiling and closing the door. 

I placed the hot box on the side, fumbling around with my wallet as a scruffy piece of card fell out. Tossing my wallet on the side, I picked up the stray piece. It was that man’s business card. 

“I didn’t realise how hungry I was.” Josh told me, standing up and picking the box up. 

He returned to his place on the couch, my own body following as I read over the information on the card.

“What’s that?” he asked, opening the box.

I passed the card to him, smiling a little.

“We need him involved.” 

Josh read over the words, smiling too. He nodded and put it down, picking up some paper. A list was written down in his handwriting of what videos we needed filming as I nearly inhaled a section of the pizza. It was good.

“I think if we get these filmed and put out before we actually play anymore shows then people might actually want to see us.” 

Agreeing, I picked up my phone and dialled the number on the card.

“Tyler it’s like 10pm, he’s probably asleep.”

I ignored him, the adrenaline running through my veins as it had done the entire day. Brain full of stories and ideas. It took two rings before I heard a hello, my face lighting up.

“Hi… uh, this is Tyler Joseph from twenty one pilots.”

“Oh, hi!” the guy said, sounding excited. I hoped it was excitement.

I smiled, “Sorry it’s late. Uh… we were just wondering if you’d want to do some videos for us. I totally get it if you’re busy but we have tons of ideas.”

“Sure, that sounds great. When were you thinking?”

I looked to Josh and mouthed ‘when?’. He shrugged before looking down to the pile of paperwork we had scribbled on. He turned back to me and mouthed ‘tomorrow?’. 

“Tomorrow?”

Mark instantly replied.

“Tomorrow’s good.”

That was that. In a few hours we had decided we needed to perform. Layers of paper covered in scribbles, drawings and words. Mark had agreed and we were on our way. Josh and I were excited. We continued to create until early hours of the morning and it wasn’t until I found myself turning the bedside lamp off at 2am that I had a chance for my mind to catch up. What the heck was I doing? I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t supposed to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be planning ahead, I was meant to be six feet under. I didn’t belong here. I was meant to be gone.


	16. Sixteen

The cold had turned both our noses red, the fresh air opening our lungs and eyes up to a new day. Josh and I had woken up early and made our way into town to meet with Mark for the first time since our first show. Our hands were being warmed by two coffees, a third being left on the table for our new friend. The coffee shop was quiet but full of warmth away from the outside. Every so often, the door would go and let a whoosh of frozen air in followed by a poor soul picking up their morning brew before a full day at work. I wondered if they had ever felt like I had, or if I was the only one on this planet who couldn’t see yellow. 

“Hey, good to see you again.” 

Whipped out of my thoughts, I saw Mark standing in front of us and shaking Josh’s hand. I was still out of it from last night, so I offered my hand to shake and sent out a smile to hide the pain. 

“We ordered you coffee. Sorry if you don’t like coffee… we can get you a tea or something if you like?” Josh waffled on, making sure our friend was catered for.

Mark smiled, taking a seat and propping his big black suitcase up against his leg. Was he moving out?

“Coffee is great, thank you so much.”

Josh looked to me, noticing my absence. A nudge was sent through my shoulder as I was once again pulled from the waters.

“Uh… we have some ideas.” I mumbled, pulling out some papers in a plastic wallet in my bag. 

One by one, we nourished Mark with the words on the papers. He sat there and listened. Taking it all in. Every so often, he would ask a question. Then he would sit in silence and let us bring another story to life. I was terrified he wouldn’t like it or understand us, but when I stopped and announced that we had finished, he let out a breath he was holding in and smiled.

“You guys are incredible.”

Josh chuckled and denied it, whereas I was caught in awe that someone else understood it other than myself and Josh. Maybe we weren’t alone.

A few logistics and practical elements were gone over and Mark said everything was possible. He was talking as if he would be there throughout the whole process and I loved the fact that he gave us his passion.

“What do you want to film first?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

Josh looked to me to make the decision and I looked down at the papers. 

“I actually have something new I want to try.” I gave them, looking outside to the sky heavy full of frosted snowflakes. “I wrote it last night.”

With that, a scrunched up piece of paper was pulled out of my pocket and unfolded carefully. Josh looked to me and then the paper, reading over the words and then back to me. The reason why I was so quiet and distant becoming clear. Last night everything came crashing down from the high and I needed to direct it into something positive. Just like I told him to do.

I handed the paper to Mark and he read it over, realising how raw it was. Straight from the point of pain.

“What were you thinking?” Mark asked, carefully handing it back to me as if the paper would rip any second. “I have some ideas.”

Josh looked outside as the flakes started to slowly fall, my throat being cleared as the sudden ideas built on my tongue.

“Leave it until it’s dark. When the snow has settled and everyone is inside. Then we can film it.”

We ended up going back to our apartment to work on some more ideas with Mark until it was time to film. We managed to solidify any uncertainty for the first video. How it was going to be shot, what it meant, what I would wear. Josh came up with most of the visuals with Mark, my mind drifting every so often. It was when Mark excused himself to the bathroom when Josh turned to me, his soft expression showing worry and concern.

“Are you alright?” 

I hesitated before nodding, “Yeah. I just need to ride this one out, I think.”

Josh nodded too. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m here.”

It was that simple comment that made me feel less alone. It gave me a little bit of energy to keep going and get this out of my system. The clock continued to pass the minutes by, a hoodie being picked out of my closet and pulled over my head with a beanie before Mark unclipped his suitcase. Instead of it being full of clothes, he pulled out a huge black thing which turned out to be a camera. Lenses were attached, some sort of metal contraption being bolted on the bottom so he could balance it on his shoulder and a microphone being stuck on top. 

“Ready?” he asked as I walked out my bedroom with Josh.

I nodded, “Let’s get this done.”

It was heading on for 11pm, the door being opened and the sepia tones filling my eyes. I picked up the accordion and headed out, Mark and Josh following. 

It was quiet. Crisp. The snow that had finished falling about an hour ago was gently covering the ground and begging not to be disturbed. An eerie, white noise hissed in our ears as we made our way down the street in silence. Every footstep we took gave us that pure crunch of snow, the white colour illuminating the street lights even more than they should. Everything was a warm, orange tinge when in reality it was freezing. The contrast of that fit beautifully with what we were going to film. Beautiful music, dark and intense lyrics. I liked that.

“Here.” I instructed, turning to Mark and Josh.

The two nodded and took in the surroundings, the blinking white light of a pylon in the distance the only sign of life. I straightened out my skeleton hoodie and played a few notes on the accordion, clearing my throat. 

Mark held the camera up on his shoulder, pressing a few buttons and then giving me a thumbs up to start.

I took a deep breath in. Out. Closed my eyes. Fingers pressed down on some keys. Creaks from the years of sitting almost mirroring the sound of the snow beneath our shoes. 

“I’m a goner…”


	17. Seventeen

I had poured everything into the video we had made. My chest felt lighter and my head felt clearer. It was a similar feeling to when I stepped off stage for the first time. I felt as if I could breathe. Mark had captured how I was feeling in this beautiful way. Don't get me wrong, it hadn't been glorified or anything like that. It was just beautiful how it had come from such a dark moment.

He sent over the finished video the morning after we shot it. Josh suggested we should post it straight away and we did. In just a few hours, it had gotten over 1,000 views. I felt exposed, but at the same time... the comments on the video were telling me that they understood me. They felt what I felt. They knew what I meant and that, to me, means the world.

Mark really heard us. Our images and ideas in our heads came to life and we definitely wanted to work with him some more, so we did. Videos of our lyrics were posted after the first and, to our surprise, caught the attention of more. Within a week, we had 200 subscribers on YouTube. We had no one but each other and then, a week later, it was us and 200 other local dreamers. We were able to build up an idea of where to play and using our videos, gained entry to some very small festivals around Columbus. I was excited.

I will admit that I am writing to you a month after all this happened. We have been so busy that I haven't had the time to write and I have been doing well. We now have a thousand subscribers on our YouTube channel and we are continuing to upload covers and original content with Mark. I had been writing more songs and ideas, sharing them with Josh before creating a video idea. That's why I may seem a little out of the creativity with my writing recently... I've just been pouring it into another source. I would say that I am sorry for not writing, but I like what I'm creating.

More festivals and venues in our town saw our videos and invited us to play which was cool. Our second gig was with a smaller audience and I didn't feel the high as much as I thought I would, but the second gig was completely different. I felt sky high. Rocketing through the clouds at a hundred miles a minute. All the creativity came to life through hitting those keyboard keys and Josh drumming away. Hey, remember when I told you about when I got Josh to hit the drums as hard as we could? We invented something called a drum battle. It was based on that day and we hit as hard as we can onstage, Josh winning. He would always win. Mark was there filming it all.

We weren't sure what Mark was filming for, but he was always there with his camera on. At the appropriate time, I mean. We just instructed him to document and I guess that was what he was doing. Today was no different as I sat up front driving a rented van to a festival a few hours away from town. Mark was in the front with me for company and Josh was fast asleep in the back, uncomfortably propped between his drum kit and a few overnight bags. It didn't look a bit pleasing to the tired eye, but his snores every so often confirmed he was too out of it to care.

"We should be there in an hour." I huffed, pushing a button on the radio which still wasn't working.

Mark sat with a notebook in hand, scribbling rough pictures and lines to create something he understood. He would pause every few minutes and look at the road ahead, asking how much longer to go or even just laughing at the snores coming from Josh.

"Do you want me to drive the last bit or are you alright?" he asked.

I shook my head, "I'll keep going, it's okay."

For a moment, I felt uneasy. The thought of being on my own with Mark strange and alien to me. I'd always been with Josh to bounce ideas off.

"You don't think what we're creating is too dark, do you?" I blurted out, the grip on the steering wheel tightening.

The man went to say something, then stopped himself, before closing his notebook.

"What I think you're doing is..." he paused, the breath in my throat was squeezed. "you're creating a discussion that needs to be had and you're letting people know that they're not on their own."

It took me a while to take that in, but eventually a smile escaped me and plastered across my face. Mark noticed and smiled too, clearing his throat.

"Your work is really good. I wouldn't be helping you if I didn't believe in what you were creating."

He believed in us. That's all that mattered. Me and Josh had become three with Mark and this circle of people to speak to reminded me of why I didn't jump. The grip on the wheel loosened and I began to relax in my seat, some more ideas popping into my head as they usually did in the middle of a conversation.

"I just want people to understand." I muttered, thinking back to mine and Josh's dark Ikea trip.

Mark nodded, "They will."

The rest of the journey was completed with small talk back and forth, Josh waking up as soon as we hit the bump in the road on the last turn. After little to no help at all, we found our place to set up our tent and park. It was drizzling which was better than pouring, but it was still unpleasant. The smell of rain filled our nostrils as we winded our window up, attempting to stay dry a little longer. It was worth it. For the next few hours, we were out in the rain getting soaked trying to put our tent up before we had to be somewhere else the other side of the festival. We eventually gave up and retreated to the festival tent.

The wind had dropped significantly and the rain had come to a halt, our tents drenched and socks soggy. We were scheduled to perform in 20 minutes, the band before us performing their last song before the break. The atmosphere was full of warmth despite the weather, my ukulele coming out of the car and being strummed with a small audience. I would never have thought of doing this, but the positive energy around me screamed in my face and I wanted to join in. For once in my life, I wanted to feel the happiness with others around me. We sung a short song, the group joining in and laughing along when I messed the words up or made a joke. I really enjoyed that part of the festival.

The discussion came to an end when I said my goodbye's, the smell of rain choking me and reminding me that I had to go onstage in a minute. But I felt nothing but excitement. Until Mark tapped me on the shoulder.

"I don't think Josh can go on." he whispered, his face pale.

Confused, my eyebrows narrowed and waited for more information.

"He's out back, come on." Mark ordered, his camera low and turned off.

I followed him into the small tent which technically was backstage, but it was empty and waiting for us to use it before we went on. Instead, I found Josh sat in a plastic garden chair with his hand covered in a damp towel. I briefly caught the sight of blood on the chair, but he soon shifted and masked it.

"Dude, are you okay?" I asked, the confusion quickly changing to worry.

Josh looked at me and then around to the others hovering and making sure nothing was broken. Mark quickly noticed the silence and asked everyone to give us a minute before leaving himself, camera in hand. I imagined a breath being released as they left from Josh, but I think it was more reality than in my head.

"Nothing's broken, it's fine."

I pulled a plastic chair closer to him, sitting opposite him before gently taking the towel. I looked to him for permission and he nodded. The towel came loose and almost dropped into my hands, his knuckles a brown and red colour. He was still shaking, from the adrenaline probably, but I figured that he would prefer people to know it was an accident rather than intentional. Quietly, he explained what happened. When I left the tent earlier, he said he would stay behind and figure it out. Now, he was dripping wet and frustrated of his anger. The tent still wasn't made and we were meant to go onstage in a matter of minutes.

"Has anyone checked it over?"

Josh nodded, clenching it gentle and then stretching out his fingers.

"We can still go on, it's okay."

I looked to him to see if he was joking, but his face was serious.

"You're going to be in so much pain, Josh."

He shrugged, "I'll regret it if I don't play. I feel like I need to."

In a way, I understood him. In another way, I thought he was crazy. A few minutes after we were meant to start, we took the stage and began our songs for the crowd awaiting the unknown. No one knew who we were. No one knew any lyrics. No one knew what to expect. But we sure as heck made sure they knew who we were by the time we left the stage and the deafening screams told us that we had done exactly that.


	18. Eighteen

Let me catch you up to speed. We were flying. Flying so high and feeling so alive that the night at the train station was merely a blurry photograph. Festivals, battle of the bands, pop up shows, busking on the street… we had done it all for months and months and it was starting to pay off. People in Colombus knew us. They knew our music and our words and beats and that made me incredibly happy. We have been playing shows for nearly 6 months now and it was all happening at the speed of light. I couldn’t keep up at times, but Josh was always there.

Today we were helping Mark move in to the apartment above us. We would have let him move in with us but there physically wasn’t the room, so as soon as the place became available he jumped at the opportunity. This meant we could work more and to be honest, he was more of a close friend now. We still didn’t know what that footage was for.

“This is the last box, Mark.” Josh stated, placing it on the empty kitchen side. 

“Thanks.”

“So,” I started, sliding my phone back into my pocket. “They want us to play another festival an hour out of town and they’re asking if we have any merchandise.”

Mark smiled and his eyes lit up, “I already have some sick ideas.”

Josh scratched his head, “I’m terrible at designing, I’ll order the pizza.”

I laughed, imagining Josh sitting at a table with some crayons trying to design a t-shirt.

“I’ve got to grab something from Ikea and then you’re welcome to stay here after and we can think of some ideas?”

I looked to Josh and he nodded, grabbing his keys off the side. It was weird to be going back to Ikea with our new friend after all that had happened and I only hoped Josh didn’t buy another duvet. We hardly had room for the last ones we got. 

We were following Mark around the furniture section as he struggled to find the office equipment, Josh seeing how many branded free pencils he could fit into his pockets before someone caught him. I stifled a laugh every time he shoved another in his pocket, the security cameras clearly positioned towards the pencil stations. 

“Wow, Josh. I stole one Whitney Houston CD and I’ve turned you into a thief.” 

The boy laughed at the memory, patting his coat pocket which made a wooden sound. 

“Hi… are you Tyler and Josh?”

My ears pricked up at the sound of our name on a foreign tongue, our heads turning to a girl probably slightly younger to us. Her hair was black and neatly tied into two pigtails, a band t-shirt on which I didn’t recognise. She smiled, holding her phone in her hand and waiting for a response.

“Uh, yeah we are.” I managed to get out, confused. “Can we help you?”

The smile on her face grew as she opened the camera on her phone, “Can I please have a picture? I saw your show a few weeks ago and you’re my new favourite band.”

Josh looked to me and then back to the girl, trying to hide the proud smile on his face. We nodded and laughed in amazement, Mark appearing just as we posed for the photo.

“Hey, do you want me to take it?” he asked, the girl politely saying yes and handing him her phone.

The photo was taken and the girl smiled again, thanking us endlessly before turning and almost jogging away with excitement.

I looked back to Josh, the smile clear on both of us. 

“That’s insane.” I whispered, Mark smiling to us. “We just got recognised!” 

Josh pulled me in for a hug, our squeals of happiness echoing through the empty maze that was Ikea. We just got noticed by a girl who had seen our show. She liked our show. We were her favourite band. We were a band. Everything about that sentence she shared with us was perfect and send butterflies shooting around my body. 

Soon after, Mark found what he was looking for and we had made our way to the checkout. The whole time waiting and driving home, me and Josh were cracking jokes and talking about everything and anything. We were elated. Happy. Content.

The pizza had been demolished and Josh was setting up Mark’s new desk, screwdrivers and instructions everywhere. Me and Mark were sat across the room up the table, bouncing ideas off Josh and putting them onto paper. Scrunched up ideas were thrown on the floor, circles and boxes and faces drawn trying to fill meaning. Nothing.

“How about starting with a logo and putting that on a shirt?” Josh mentioned from behind the instruction booklet.

I huffed, flicking through some paper full of lead.

“Yeah, I just can’t think of anything that would mean something.”

Mark had resulted in drawing a cartoon character from a magazine, my own pencil being laid on top of some paper untouched. I didn’t want to make a logo or design for the sake of it. I wanted it to mean something.  
“What’s this one?” Josh asked from across the room, holding up a piece of paper I had previously aimed at his head. “This looks cool.”

“If it’s on the floor then it’s trash.” I mumbled, flicking my pen around in attempt to think of something.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josh inspect the paper. It was pulled out of the crumpled ball and laid flat on the floor, his hands grabbing a blue and red marker before scribbling on the same piece of paper. 

“What about now?” 

My head looked up, Mark doing the same as we both caught sight of our recycled trash. 

“If it doesn’t mean anything, then we can give it our own meaning.” 

Josh was speaking these words to me which felt so right. The creation was simple and perfect. Three lines, different angles. Colours. No meaning, but we could fix that and I loved the control ahead of me. I smiled, dropping my pen.

“What do you think?” I asked Mark, turning to him. 

He nodded, placing his pen on the table too before opening his mouth, “Perfect.”

It was then that things started to settle into my bones. We had been recognised by an audience member (I can’t quite get to grips with calling them a fan) and we had this break through with a logo and meaning. Our music was really becoming something and I just wanted to write. Josh just wanted to drum and we’ve made it into this project which was going nowhere but up. It was building inside of us and we were understanding our target more and more with each show, faces looking back to us with their hands in the air and the music pumping through their veins. It was as if they were living for the music, their eyes closed and smiles plastered on their faces whether they knew the lyrics or not. We were creating something so meaningful and we didn’t even know it.


	19. Nineteen

Spring. The air was a little bit cleaner. It felt good to breathe in and out, the fire in my lungs still crackling away from the past few months and their excitement. Windows were able to be opened without the chilling cold chomping away at our bodies and the days were slowly getting longer. I liked this part of the year because it felt fresh. It felt as if I could start again if I needed to.

Josh and I had put some money together to buy some t-shirts to sell, our first being given to Mark as a gift. More late night conversations between him and I lead to us understanding each other more. Our hopes and dreams and Mark’s goal. We had made a deal. As soon as we started making money, we would pay him. He would always be the first we paid, even if we didn’t get any money ourselves. Mark was invaluable to us and we were so grateful for all the free work he had been doing with us.

Today, I needed a break. Not because anything was bad, but I just felt that need for quiet. My brain had been so busy, which was good, but to the point where I felt overwhelmed. There were things out of my control and the pace of things was picking up. I needed a moment to stop and breathe. So that’s what I did. I picked up my pencil, notepad and jumper before heading out the door. Josh was visiting his family and Mark was hard at work with some of our videos, so my legs took me to the one place I liked to sit and feel.

I looked across the park and headed straight for the trees. A place where I used to go when I was younger and become mesmerised with the colours, sounds, smells and textures. As I reached the outskirts of the trees, I paused and closed my eyes. I took in a deep breath and savoured every last bit, the lingering damp smell dancing around my nostrils and seeping onto my tongue. The ground was still a little wet from the shower earlier, but it made everything more intense and noticeable.

Opening my eyes, I stepped forward and headed straight. A few minutes of walking told me I was alone, the exit long gone and the busy city behind me. This is what I liked. Rather a large tree struck my interest as I walked a little closer, my hand reaching out and tracing the bumps of life it had on the bark. Scratches. Etches. Moss. Life that had been quietly living here for years, maybe even decades. I was alone with nature and I wondered if everything was as it seems.

Perching on the floor with my back against the bark, I looked around. Trunks sprouted up in random places creating a maze of trees, a playground for a deer or rabbit. Beautiful rays of the sun weaved through where it could, casting shadows on everything in the way. It was silent. There was nothing. White noise, the occasional bird call and the sound of my own heartbeat. I tilted my head back, looking up to the layer of branches and leaves protecting the forest.

“I know where you stand.” I began to recite from nowhere. “Silent in the trees… and that’s where I am, silent in the trees.”

I scribbled down the words into my notebook, making sure I got every letter right. My eyes stuck to the page as I opened my mouth again to the tuneless words.

“Why won’t you speak, where I happen to be?” I spoke, softer this time. “Silent in the trees, standing cowardly.”

I paused my thinking, the words noted down and safe. Deciding it would be better, I pulled out my phone and brought up the recording app. After pressing record, I shoved it into my back pocket and stood up. Notepad on the floor, I took off my jumper. Then my shirt. It sounds weird, but I needed to feel the forest. I needed to know that I was alive.

Goosebumps prickled my skin, my eyes closing and another breath being drawn in. I focused on my body and how I felt. What could I feel? How did the forest make me feel? Was I alone?

“I can feel your breath… I can feel my death. I want to know you, I want to see… I want to say…”

What would I say? I had so many questions for where my brain was going and what it wanted to do. I almost felt this whoosh of air glide over my bare skin and I hoped deep down that it wasn’t my imagination. I didn’t want to be alone in this forest.

“Hello.”

It was simple. Sometimes, when your mind could take in words, it didn’t take a lot of them to create something beautiful and meaningful. Yes, sometimes it took a lot of them and that’s not a bad thing. But in some cases all you need if a few of them. I think this was one of them moments. Before I headed back to civilisation, I imagined what this would be like in front of a crowd. A crowd full of people who looked to us for guidance. Hundreds, thousands of people wanting to join our clique.

I imagined this song being played slowly to begin with; just me and the keyboard. Green. Dark greens, light ones and tones which blended them together. Then, in a simple beat, Josh can turn the whole song around and make it into a celebration. A celebration that we both made it to another show.

The idea of this grew in my mind as I took myself home again. A smile remained on my face as I clicked the door shut and immediately sat at my piano, pressing down and making a string of chords which I felt fit the words.

“You can close your eyes if you want to.” I mumbled, smiling to myself and talking to nobody.

I was lost in creation.


	20. Twenty

Decisions. We were constantly faced with them and that’s one of the things that the name of our two-piece stands for. Josh and I had spent the whole night in the living room, making decisions. Choices. Not out of boredom, but out of inspiration. Again we had expanded on this world we had created full of questions and meaning. 

“Dude, your phone has been blowing up.” Josh threw at me as soon as I emerged from my room around 10am. “Most of them are unknown numbers.”

I furrowed my brows, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. It didn’t work as I picked up my phone I had left in the living room, the battery nearly dead. But, as Josh said, it was full of notifications. Grabbing my charger I cautiously plugged it into the wall and attached it to my phone, clicking on the first notification which I recognised. It was from Mark.

Mark: Enjoy! :-)

Under the word, there was a link. I tapped on it and waited for it to load, turning my volume up and preparing myself. I thought it would just be another street poetry or goner, but no. Online and for the public on YouTube sat the first episode in a web series called ‘Regional at Best’, documenting the last few months of our lives. My mouth opened a little at the amazement of the content, Josh’s ears picking up the sound of our voices coming from my phone.

“What’s that?”

I smiled, locking my phone and grabbing my laptop. Opening it up, I sat beside Josh and smiled as I found the video on YouTube. We watched in awe at the work, capturing every emotion perfectly whether it be good or bad. 

“Mark did this?” he asked, smiling. 

I nodded.

I scrolled down and my face went blank. My breath caught in my throat. 9,000 views. 9,000 people had seen this in a matter of hours. Comments full of hope, demands for more and support filled me up to the brim. I saw Josh out the corner of my eye grab his phone and pull up twitter, opening up the band account. The boy blew up into a fit of laughter.

“Have you seen this?!” he yelled, showing me his screen.

Our followers had blown up over night, too. Followers, tweets, messages all directed at us and our music. Our vision. I will always express how weird it felt to be this open and vulnerable because it truly is out of the ordinary for me. When I felt the darkness closing in, I would sit in my bedroom in the physical dark. No lights, no sounds, nothing but the cold air trying to seep under my blanket as I lay there thinking. Words would grow and engrain themselves in the darkness above me. I would whisper. To no one, everyone and me. I would whisper words which made me feel comfort and protected from the darkness trying to float into my lungs and blood.   
Now, these words were etching themselves into other people’s vision. In darkness which wasn’t just in my bedroom. I can’t quite describe to you how it feels to know you are not alone like that. I could try, but I would rather keep my failed attempts to myself. If you’re this far in our story… then you’ll get it. No need to describe it to you.

We gawped at the messages, replying to every single one with detail. With each reply, we received 10 more messages. It went on for hours until it was time for our very first interview. Mark had put us in touch with a radio station who loved our work so far and for us to agree, we were told it was a quick ‘chat’ about our plans and creative process. Then we found out it was an interview live on the radio for thousands to hear. Okay, a little bit more than just a chat.

We both walked into the small office, a pane of glass separating the computers and microphones which broadcast to the world. Mark followed with his camera on, capturing the first interview we would ever do. It was kind of special and even if no one else wanted to watch it back, I think I would want to just for the sake of it. There was a funny smell of cleaning products filling my nose, causing my eyes to water a little. Josh adjusted his hoodie as he peered behind the glass, smiling.

“This is so cool.” I heard him mumble, nodding my head to agree.

My mind wandered to what would be asked. Would it be about our music? Our image? Our meaning? A dark cloud hovered over my head, waiting to unload the storm.

“Hey, I’m Nate.” A voice announced from behind. “Pleased to meet you both, I’ve heard a lot about twenty one pilots in the last week.”

I hope it was good.

Josh shook his hand, my own following. Nate explained how the interview would go forward, our terrified bodies listening and trying to take it in. I mean, it would only be to a few thousand people… it would be fine. But the thought of one person hearing our thoughts and thinking we were ridiculous held my tongue back.

“Ready?” he asked.

I nodded, “Let’s do it.”

With a lot of force, we made our way into the room and were instructed where to sit. Headphones were pinched around our heads, the microphones being moved to sit perfectly in front of us to capture every single vowel. Every single thought. Josh had gone pale and I’d be lying if I said the blood didn’t drain my body with fear.

“And we’re back, providing you with the greatest alternative music in Ohio.” Nate announced, sounding fluent. “We have a very special interview with us next with the upcoming band twenty one pilots.”

“Hello,” I squeaked out, the fear showing more than I wanted it to. “I’m Tyler.”

I looked to Josh and his mouth opened, nothing coming out. 

“This is my best buddy, Josh. He’s awesome at drumming.” I added.

Nate went on to try and describe the songs we had released, saying they were ‘eclectic’ and ‘refreshing’. I’m not sure how to feel about those words, but I think they were okay and our music lived up to how he was describing them.

“Now, I was having a conversation with a friend of mine who I showed ‘Goner’ to and he said, ‘they’ll be nothing but regional at best’ which is also the name of your new web-series. How do you feel about that?”

Good question, Nate.

I paused, taking in the question. Josh remained silent, fiddling with the string of his hoodie and almost sweating with fear.

“I guess that would be okay.” I started, looking to Josh and then Nate. “I mean, we don’t do this with the need to become big pop-stars. We do this to express ourselves and give something for people to point their emotions at.”

Wow, that was a lot. I didn’t stutter once and Josh stared at me in awe at my words. I did nothing but spoke the truth, and it was refreshingly nice to. I hoped the radio listeners didn’t mind. Nate didn’t as I clearly saw him nod his head in agreement, smiling.

“I love that, you know. How you show so much passion in everything you do. So much emotion.” 

More questions were asked and we managed to promote our new web series Mark had sprung on us this morning, the little red light on his camera being seen out the corner of my eye the other side of the glass. I noticed that Josh had been trying to build up the courage to join in the conversation, the sleeve of his jacket being twisted instead of the string now.

Nate played some songs before returning to us for the last section of the interview, Josh looking at an interesting patch on the table the whole time.

“I have to ask this,” the interviewer asked, “How did you two meet? Did you meet through music or school? Tell us.”

Another pause. Silence. Josh’s ears picked up the words and his eyes met mine, the sentence spinning around in both our mind’s.

“You can take this one, Josh.” I mumbled, nudging him a little.

I hoped that by giving this question to him, he would know what to do. By focusing on something other than the listeners he would be able to talk at ease, the dark story behind it all staying behind locked doors. A silent agreement between us.

“We met at a bowling competition.” He blurted out, still making eye contact with me. Both of us burst out laughing, Nate joining in. “Tyler was the best in his category and I was a beginner.”

“Yeah,” I cut in, “He was a really bad beginner and he was trying to steal tips from me.”

Josh bounced back, “I actually really looked up to him and wanted to be the great bowler he was so I asked him to tutor me.”

“So I did. And here we are.”

Nate looked to us in awe, laughter falling from his lips as he tried to take in the fictional piece we had given him. He knew it was a joke and I knew he would want the truth, but deep down I hoped he would take what he was given and move on.

“That’s amazing,” he finally commented, laughing some more and clearing his throat. “You should start a bowling team here in Ohio.”

Josh laughed, relaxing a little. “We should. I’m still not good though so I think Tyler should be captain.”

Nate looked to me and then Josh, smiling. “How did you two really meet? I love the bowling story but I know a lot of our listeners would love to know. To look back on in ten, fifteen years when you’re selling out arena’s and say ‘hey, they came from this’.”

Josh sat back again, letting me take the lead. “We’d rather not talk about it, actually.”

Nate nodded, putting his hands up and understanding.

“Sorry, it’s just that it’s personal.”

Again, he nodded in agreement, “Definitely.”

He moved on pretty quickly after that and we were grateful. We said our goodbye’s to the listeners and Nate went on to say who we were again, reminding them where to find us online and at shows.

Then we were off the air. I physically felt the breath release that Josh was holding in as the red light flicked off. The tension had fallen and the pressure was gone. It was just us in the room with Nate with Mark watching, leaving the listeners to continue with their daily schedules.

The formalities of saying thank you and bye were completed as Mark switched the camera off, taking it off his shoulder and carrying it carelessly as we walked back to the car.

“You did good.” I quietly told Josh, Mark a few feet behind us. “What you said was good.”

His cap was fixed slightly from the wonky appearance. His eyes stuck to the floor.

“Thanks.”

A few moments passed until we reached the car. 

“I’m sorry I chickened out.”

I smiled, “Don’t be sorry, you did good.”


	21. Twenty One

“Try that one more time.” 

From playing shows and getting our name out there, we actually managed to raise some money. With that money, after paying Mark, we bought ourselves some recording equipment to really start taking that step forward. 

I liked the privacy of writing sometimes. How words that found their way onto your paper stayed there for your eyes only. But today I was having to face that fear of sharing words with others. It was just me and Josh and he had heard my lyrics before, but recording them and playing them back… I’m not sure I could wrap my head around that. 

“That’s good, I think we should keep that.” Josh said, nodding his head to the beat while we played back the bass line.

My finger tips stroked the bass strings, the low buzz radiating through the speakers as we played around with different notes. This one we had stumbled upon really worked. With what, I wasn’t sure. I just knew that it worked and it was the sound of blood pumping through veins.  
Although we were messing around with instruments and beats, we were working on a song called Holding On To You. Overall, we were working on all the songs we had played live to create a sort of portfolio or EP. They all included drums and piano and our challenge was to put them together, add more instruments and record it. So far, it was okay. But again, we felt as if we were in the deep end. 

“Why don’t we record the piano first? I know all the song on the piano.” I suggested, taking the bass off my body and leaning it against the chair. 

Josh nodded, playing around with the computer as I took a seat at my trust keyboard. Within the 3 minutes, it was done. Recorded and sounding good. Next were the drums and Josh killed it, making it sound even better. We were back and forth recording and playing instruments for a while until it was time for the vocals. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.

The cheap, nearly broken headphones were placed over my ears before adjusting the microphone in front of me. It was a good microphone, but not expensive. It does the job. Josh played around with the laptop again, making sure all the wires were plugged in before hitting the button. The music tracks were played in my ears and I began to count, Josh looking to me and then to the laptop.

I took a breath and then began. 

With every vowel, every note, every ’s’ and ’t’ and ‘ing’, I put everything into it as if it were my last breath. I had my eyes closed for most of it, just really focusing on the words and what they meant when I wrote them. What they could mean to other people.

“That was sick.” I heard a muffled Josh through the headphones.

My eyes opened and the real world was let back in.

“I think this is my favourite so far.”

I smiled, taking the headphones from my head. “What does it mean to you?”

He looked to me, a little confused but thinking. I want to make people think about what they’re listening to. Not too hard, but just enough to be able to hide some beautiful things in our songs.

Josh cleared his throat, “To me it’s just finding control.”

Again, I smiled and looked to the floor at his interpretation. “I like that.”

“What about you? What does it mean to you?” he asked, quiet.

I paused and kept my eyes on the floor. To me, it was about a lot of things. Finding control. Hope. Strength. Finding myself again. Darkness and light, all being twisted around inside of me. But those words couldn’t leave my mouth to explain what it meant to me and I don’t think I really knew why I wrote it.

“Darkness and light.” I mumbled out, looking to him. “That’s what it means to me.”

We stood there for a while, Josh playing back the unfinished piece quietly as we thought. This idea that a song could become a feeling really stuck with me. I mean, anyone could create a song with an emotion in mind. The lyrics can literally tell you how to feel or the tone of the instruments can sway you towards happiness or sadness and everything between. 

Can you imagine that? A room full of people, singing along to a song and all feeling the same emotion so passionately. 

There’s a moment I want to tell you about. It happened a few days after we recorded this song and I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. I don’t think those people at that show will ever be able to forget it. It was only a venue full of about 200 people, but it was special. 

I knew what song was coming next and a rush of adrenaline pumped through me, almost knocking me over. That day, I knew what Holding On To You meant to me. Tomorrow it may be different, but that day it meant one thing. Strength.

“I need you to do something for me. I need you guys to help me out on this next song. Is that cool?” I asked into the microphone, a cheer answering back. 

I looked to Josh who was watching me cautiously, waiting for the signal. 

“You can’t find strength without support. At least I can’t… so I want you to support me. Hold me up.”

The crowd went insane. I guess that was a yes, huh?

Jumping down from the stage felt vulnerable, the faces in front of me smiling and screaming my name. Quickly, before security could stop me, I climbed the barrier and reached out for them. Hands from everywhere took mine, holding my balance. One foot lifted and immediately found a solid ground of hands beneath it. Leaning forward, I launched my other foot off the barrier and for a split second I thought I would fall. I would meet nothing but air under my right foot. But I was held up.

A smile spread across my face at the accomplishment, my hand holding the microphone being able to be freed from the hands below and giving Josh the signal. The synth started pulsating through the crowd, a smile appearing on my face as I stood high above the clouds. My other hand was freed for a moment and I spread my arms out, closing my eyes and taking in the moment of being held in the air. 

“How do we feel?” I shouted into the microphone, opening my eyes and being greeted with hundreds of smiles and sweaty faces. “Here we go!” 

The first few lines were perfect and I was hitting every note and letter as I did during the recording session of this song. Then I began to wobble back and forth, my voice showing as I missed a few words and fell forward. In an instant, my free hand was met with another which pushed back against the gravity. I continued going, making eye contact with the soul below who connected their hand with mine just at the right moment. They were holding on to me and I was overwhelmed with strength.

I felt alive. I felt loved. I felt infinite.


	22. Twenty Two

Writing these to you has helped me process certain emotions. Memories. Usually they would swirl around in my head and I wouldn’t know what to do with them, but since the meeting of Josh and writing this… things feel clearer. Thank you for listening.

Our album had been recorded fully, by ourselves, and was ready to be released online for everyone to hear. Our fans were eager to hear who we truly were and to be honest, I was too. I was excited to hear how they saw us and how they interpreted some of the darkest moments both me and Josh had. I was passionate on how we could control how they saw us and if it would come across or not. Would they catch the messages we were throwing? Could we communicate without giving it to them straight?

Could we be the vessel that we visioned ourselves to be?

That’s what it was called. Vessel. The first album from twenty one pilots. 

Mark had pretty much designed the whole visual side of things. We hadn’t planned on getting physical CD’s, but we decided we should get a couple hundred to sell at shows in the future along with some merchandise. A few t-shirts, stickers and tote bags were created and delivered to our flat that evening the day before the show, our smiles overwhelming. We unwrapped the boxes as if it was Christmas, the first few shirts being thrown around the room to Josh and Mark to keep. I knew that the rest would go down in history.

Along with our exciting new ideas ready to be let out into the world, this buzzing need of sharing it with anyone and everyone hit us. We needed to celebrate this milestone of our first album. We needed to celebrate this milestone of being alive, one year later. Josh thought it was important for us to remember that date we almost did it and I agreed, the decision being made that Vessel would be premiered on the same evening 365 days later. To them, it was an album. To us, it was a quiet and reflective celebration.

The morning of the show soon came and we were terrified. Weather reports of storms and destructive rain constantly filled the speakers of whatever I was listening on, phone calls and text updates on the equipment and set up draining my phone battery. The doubt in my mind was slowly dragging me under, but this glimmer of hope kept me afloat. This couldn’t be how we released Vessel. It just couldn’t. I was determined to continue, so we did. I hoped that if we kept going, the weather would keep away until we were done. It was like that right up until the show. The constant balance of excitement and potential disappointment. 

“Hey, Josh?” I asked, pulling a jacket on over my thin t-shirt.

We were in a small room before the show, the last slithers of sunlight illuminating the room as we admired the outdoor world. Our stage in the middle of the huge grass area, lights directing the audience’s attention and the little table at the back selling our stuff which was crowded.

“Yeah?”

“Arena’s.” I whispered, looking to Josh behind me. “Arena’s… we’re going to do it.”

He smiled, looking out the window to the crowd of people who showed up.

“Arena’s.” He agreed, pulling on his mask.

I believe I have tried to explain to you before how going onstage feels for us. This show was different. We weren’t trying to impress anyone or prove ourselves or force our music on people. They showed up. People showed up to see us because they wanted to. They took time out of their day to purchase a ticket and make their way to the show, some wearing t-shirts and others excited to see the boys behind the songs. People showed up.

Our introduction played through the speakers, the crowd going silent and listening to the words. The sky was clear, the rain long gone. Darkness was on the way and we relied on the lights to keep us going, pointing at the stage illuminating it for our use. 

“Please welcome, twenty one pilots.”

I took a deep breath, looked to Josh who was on the other side of the stage, stepped forward. One foot in front of the other, Ty. I tilted my head towards the audience, my mask protecting my face for now. I looked at them, cheering. Hands in the air. Josh behind his drums. Smoke engulfing the stage and making us look like aliens who had just landed. I stood there and took it in. Every face, every cheer, every sound. We stood there as if we owned the place. As if we belonged.

Then, after a nod from Josh, my hands went into the air and ordered the audience to clap along to the drumbeat of Guns for Hands. The crowd joined in, Josh ripping off his mask and throwing it to the side before hitting his drums. I don’t think there was one person in that audience who wasn’t clapping. Who wasn’t singing. We had their attention in the palm of our hands, their eyes glistening and watching our every move. It truly felt as if we had the world.

As the show went on, our adrenaline stayed high. The rain pelted down with force and the darkness caved around us. But we kept on going. Water jumping from the drum kit with every hit and droplets running into the keys on my piano. It was a feeling of no other.

Sometimes, you just have to keep on going. You truly don’t know what’s going to happen and, for us, it was the most beautiful feeling of all. The feeling of belonging.


	23. Twenty Three

“You guys have it.” The woman muttered, still looking at us as if we were made of gold. “You really don’t have a clue how good you are, do you?”

Those words bounced from my ears. 

“You just played that show as if it were your last one and every single person in the audience was there with you.” she went on to describe, Josh smiling and looking down to his beaten drumsticks in his hands.

Over the bangs and shouts of the volunteers packing up the equipment, I noticed the silence of the sky. There were no clouds. If it wasn’t for the floodlights then I’m sure we would have seen stars shining down as if they were beside us twinkling away. The odd plane flew by, the lights flashing and gliding. My mind continued to wander as the woman spoke to Josh, asking questions about our shows and story. There wasn’t an audience, but he still stumbled over his words and I kicked myself for losing my tongue in that moment.

“Okay, well.” The woman went on, looking to her partner beside her. “We want you to come in and meet the label. No questions asked and we won’t take no for an answer.”

My ears picked those words up, letting them in through the force field. My eyes looked to the woman and then to Josh, his face almost pale.

“What?” I squeaked out.

She nodded, “We want you to meet the rest of the Fueled By Ramen crew.”

Both of us let out a breath and started laughing, the lady joining in and shaking our hands one more time. It didn’t guarantee anything, but we were going somewhere. Sometimes that’s more important. We said our goodbye’s and helped pack the rest of the stuff up, smiles on our faces no matter how heavy the speakers were or tangled the cables got. Those ideas of playing arena’s… they were just dreams. Dreams which had this white fuzz around them with the bad parts taken out. Now, as we were moving forward with our vessel, the white cloud had started to dissipate and lift. The dreams were becoming questions. Could we really do that? Can we get there? Questions which I wanted to answer myself.

As we got home and let out a sigh, our brain’s were still running around on the stage. It was gone midnight and we sat on the couch in our underwear, unsure of what to do or watch. Our bodies were ready for bed but our eyes were far from it.

Josh sat flicking through the channels, my own hands fumbling around with my phone trying to open some photos Mark took of us at the show. I never understood technology. Even though we recorded our own album, it still baffled me. 

The TV settled and Josh lay the remote down between us, a can of drink being passed to me as he opened his own and let the hiss escape the can. A relay of the Grammy’s were on, something which we had missed but needed to catch up on. I wasn’t sure what I thought of these award shows as I know they were mainly for publicity. Someone is going to buy the Grammy winning album of the year over anything. It’s just a title. Give yourself a title and people will want it and think that it meant something.

Anyway, it’s not that I disagree with award shows. It’s just that sometimes it seems predictable and it’s definitely not about the music or feeling. It’s about the people and money. That’s what makes me sad about it. The categories went on and I recognised a few names, Josh commenting on them every so often or pointing out a stupid outfit in the audience. I laughed along and joked around, the long and painful advert breaks providing me another chance to open those photos from Mark.

My phone was put down once it started again, the host introducing the nominee’s for the best rock song. As I watched the nominee’s cross their fingers and hold their breath, I held mine. I crossed my fingers. The winner was announced and they looked elated. A smile radiated around them and tears fell from their eyes. They looked how I felt when I was onstage.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Josh announced, looking to me watching their happiness. “If we ever win a Grammy, we’ll take off our pants and go up in our underwear.”

I laughed, looking to him. “What? Why the heck would we do that?”

Josh shrugged, “To remember this point in time.”

We sat laughing for a few moments before I held my hand out. We shook on the deal, our attention going back to the next category as I felt my eyelids grow heavy. 

“Are we really doing this, then?” I asked quietly, looking to him again.

A nod confirmed. 

“I want to go somewhere.” Josh said, standing up and walking to his room. “You coming?”

“Josh it’s nearly 2am.”

“So? We don’t have to be up early for anything.”

He was right. So we found our pants and coats and decided to walk.

This time, unlike the scene at the show, we could see the stars. We could see them glimmering in the dark sky while the vintage auburn street lights lit our path. Our conversation stuck to our Grammy deal for a while, but then it switched to something more serious. I focused on putting one foot in front of the other, my shoelace dangling and trying to keep up as we spoke.

“What if they don’t want to sign us and we’ve got this all wrong?” I asked, watching my breath disappear into the darkness.

We took a few more steps.

“We continue to play shows and make music.”

I smiled and nodded. “What if they do want to sign us?

“We continue to play shows and make music.”

The simple art of repetition can be more powerful than coming up with new words. Josh was right. Either way, we needed to continue to focus on the music and feeling.

“This is all so weird.” I added, Josh chuckling beside me. “Like, the whole concept of sharing the music and having people know who we are and for them to treat us like we’re rockstars.”

“Dude,” Josh said through his laughter, “We are rockstars.”

All I could do was smile. 

“I know what you mean, though. It’s not normal. But it’s something that comes with being a lyrical and musical genius, I guess.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” I mumbled, smiling and nudging his arm. 

A few passing cars interrupted the eerie early morning silence, a taxi cab on their last run of the shift. I can imagine the driver had been overwhelmed with parts of stories that day. The woman who was late to work, the man who was late home, the parents who were madly in love and wanted to be driven around Columbus. 

My attention shifted as I noticed a familiar dip in the path. We were just walking and if anything, I was letting Josh lead. We had come back.

It was warmer. A gentle breeze passing by us as we made our way in silence to where it all started. The sky was now a rose tinted colour, the platform lights illuminating the darkness with a sharp white. We were back where it began and I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I inhaled, exhaled. Clenched my fists and then let them loose. I was anxious. Unsure. Uneasy. 

“This is weird.” Josh said, letting out a breath of demons.

There, in front of us, sat the freezing cold bench we spoke our words to each other on. This time, it wasn’t cold. I took in the sight before I moved, taking a seat in the exact place I was that night. Josh did the same and we looked out in front of us to the tracks, the reality of what could have happened settling into our bones once again.

“We would just be skeletons if we jumped.” I mumbled, the thoughts racing through my mind. “That’s all we really are, aren’t we?”

It was more of a statement than question and Josh thankfully stayed silent. We had been caught in this buzz of performing and people noticing us. People noticing us and listening and lifting us up higher. I still felt weird about the entire process and fact that people knew us. I don’t think I could ever get over that.

“At the end of this all, only skeleton bones remain.” Josh eventually replied. He looked to me. “Thank you for saving me. I wasn’t ready to go.”

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel my throat tighten and my eyes prickle with tears. Deep down, I wasn’t ready to go either. But at that moment in time I needed to stop everything. Then I saw Josh. He was thinking the same thing as me and I just felt this responsibility overpower me. I couldn’t let this boy jump. I couldn’t let him die. I couldn’t let him feel unwanted or worthless like I did. Josh was full of so much life and inspiration and talent. We were going somewhere together and that made me feel so thankful to be alive with him. 

Truth is, you can do anything. I get it. I know you can hurt yourself. I know that’s an option and I wouldn’t tell you it’s not. It’s how we deal with that. Mine and Josh’s outlook that night was overwhelming us. We couldn’t see anything but doing this thing we were about to do and it was our cure. But it’s not. All it would do was prevent us from making this music and helping others. 

It’s difficult to explain because I’m not a professional. I’ve spoken to Josh about this multiple times and even Mark. It’s not my place to say what’s right and wrong on this subject. All I can do is talk about my experience and tell other people that it’s okay. You’re not alone. Let’s take how you feel and point it at something positive.

The train tracks, the cold bench and the overhead speakers… they stayed in my mind and heart. Everything that created that night is with me, all the time. I know for Josh that it’s the same. I’m not perfect and I don’t think I ever will be. I will still have moments of doubt and pure anger and hatred towards myself. But in those moments, I’ll tell myself this.

I chose to step away from my own suicide to help Josh. That was my decision. Josh chose to step away from his to continue to talk to me and tell me about his drumming. That was his. I can now use that choice to choose to create and I promise you this; I will never stop creating.

That’s why we chose to meet up with the label. That’s why, when offered, we said yes to a record deal.


	24. Twenty Four

Today we were filming a music video to Holding On To You. I was both excited and anxious, as I expected I would be. A lot of people were on set and it felt like the real deal, all the cameras being set up and lights being tested while we were introduced to some more label people. 

Mark was there, which I was thankful for. Me and Josh insisted he film the behind the scenes footage for our YouTube and, in the future, be a part of the visual side of the band. Basically we wanted him with us wherever we went. Expenses covered and a good rate of pay. Our wishes were granted and Mark’s work continued to be epic at his own pace. 

We were taken into separate dressing rooms to get ready, our outfits hung up and steamed perfectly. I wouldn’t have minded a crease or two, but I think someone in the wardrobe department may have been fired if there were. I didn’t want that. Small talk was made between myself and the person helping me into my black jacket, another person quickly getting too close and padding something cold and wet onto my face. I never thought about make up, but I guessed it was something I would have to get used to. 

The lady poked and prodded and wiped the cold stuff around my face, making sure to cover every single crevice and to enhance every single bone. I tried to focus on how it felt on my face, but it kept going numb and I kept running away from my own body to somewhere blurry and dark. I had woken up to a bad day and I knew it was far from over. 

On my bad days, I usually don’t remember much. Sometimes I remember glimpses of what I did or how I reacted and felt, but today it was more chunks. I stood in various places, the camera focusing on different parts of me and Josh depending on where we were in the song. Dancers were rehearsing, then shooting, then taking a break. The director was yelling a lot. Good things, though. Excitement. I couldn’t feel it, but I knew he could. 

Then, the next thing I remember, was the noose. I was laying flat on my back, the camera hanging from what looked like a very thin piece of wire and metal above me. It could have fallen at any given moment. My back was supported by the block I was lying on, but my head was having to be held up by my own strength as someone carefully hooked the rope around me.

The air choked me but the outside showed nothing except fear. I sat up, taking the noose from around my neck and rubbed my face. I couldn’t do this. Not today or ever. I was putting this image into someone’s head which they could use to hurt themselves. Feeling the scratchy thread against my skin felt as if it had left it raw. The adrenaline which pumped through my system all for the wrong reasons not knowing how to escape, my throat tightening on its own and the tears threatening to overwhelm me.

“Take five?” someone said, gently putting their hand on my shoulder.

I nodded and proceeded to stand up, walking as calmly as I could to the bathroom to gain some privacy. Once I closed the door, I noticed my hand scratched raw as my nails provided the escape for my adrenaline. I patted my forehead a few times as if to tell myself off before taking in a deep breath. The wires were crossing and yelling in my ears, the bright lights being flicked on and off when in reality the light bulbs were brand new and faultless. 

We hadn’t even gotten one take and I knew I would have to do it again. I guess we could have done without the literal visuals, but the word was still there. I was still saying those letters in that sequence and putting the image in heads whether it was on the screen or not. 

I felt the wall against my back, my head making contact with it too as I tried to steady myself. Not right now. I needed something to hold on to, no pun intended. I needed some air.

“Ty?” I heard, the door closing behind Josh. 

The cubicle door I was in was wide open, my red eyes moving towards him as the adrenaline swirled out of my body as if it was snow in hot water. The familiarity of Josh’s voice had brought me back to safety.

“It’s okay.” He added.

Those two words helped for the moment. We stood in silence for a while in the bathroom, someone coming in to check on us after ten or so minutes to make sure we didn’t fall behind on schedule. Josh spoke softly to them, my ears still trying to block out the rushing of my blood. 

I did, eventually, make it back to the set and complete the shot with the noose. I don’t know how. It was like a vivid nightmare and the more I try to think about it, the more I forget which I’m glad about. Josh kept close to me for the rest of the shoot, making serious things into jokes and asking me if it was good when no one was listening. I needed that to get through. But when I was home and the day was done, that feeling was still there.

My body felt heavy. My eyelids felt thick and the air I was breathing was toxic. Josh had left to pick up some food and made sure I knew he was coming back as quickly as he left but even my stomach didn’t acknowledge that. 

The thing is, it never really goes away. You sit there and you think about things. I was doing really good and I felt free from it all, but then you have that one thought. The one little sentence containing a few words that start the motion of going down hill. Day by day, you see your hard work being picked away from you slowly until you’re only a few petals away from being empty. 

Putting all of my emotions into this thing we were filming… it had knocked me off my feet. I felt as if I was falling backwards with only the floor to catch me, my bones shuddering and just accepting that they may break. I wasn’t good enough to do this. The whole time there was this nagging thing at the back of my head, telling me I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I’m not the only one suffering, why would I make it into some songs and parade it around proudly? Why am I not helping people physically instead of hiding away in my room, writing? I felt selfish.

Tears layering my face, I stumbled out of my bedroom and into the kitchen with one thing only on my mind. Not the smell of left over pizza or the music video shoot earlier, but another thing. My feet dragged along the floor, my arms limp and my eyes blurred. I made my way to the place that I had fantasised a lot about when I was younger.

As I stared at the kitchen sink, I wondered what it was all for. We all went in the end, so what was the point? I had saved myself so many times that I was exhausted with bravery. Strength which had been built up and up only to be washed down the drain. Vivid images of red liquid filled my eyes, the colour throwing itself down the drain to never be seen again. What would happen?

I began to shake with adrenaline. Sweat built on my forehead. Heartbeat shocking my ears. If I made one simple movement, I would explode. All the thoughts and air and soul would be set on fire within my body, leaving nothing left but ashes which could be swept away to sea. I wouldn’t have to feel brave or strong. Heat rose in my throat, hitting my cheeks and soon rising above my ears. My hands were in fists and my eyes were focused on one thing. The drip from the tap was driving me insane, pinging every few seconds and tightening my jaw. I couldn’t do it.

With one swift movement, the metal object was thrown across the room and I let everything out. I screamed. I swore at myself. I hit things. I hit myself. I grabbed things which I could reach and smacked them against the tap, my throat on fire from the yelling. 

One hit after the other, the tap became crooked. The dripping stopped. It began to pour from all angles and spurt into the air, the wooden rolling pin I had used to beat the living daylights out of what was in front of me still going. 

Then I stopped. I dropped the wooden piece. Watched the water flow effortlessly after my destructive outburst. Sweat dripped from my face, air filling my lungs and the calm rolling towards me in a wave. 

I had just proven to myself something that I was looking for. I needed a purpose for this music. I couldn’t just make it and put it out there, not knowing what to say or how to say it. I needed to be a voice but in that moment I was just the droplet of water escaping the tap. 

With a little bit of hard work and my beaten down self, I could effortlessly let my words flow out of me. I could gush with meaning. I could create meaning. I could help others by showing them it was okay to feel like I felt. I had to do that, because what else did I have?


	25. Twenty Five

The feeling that I had felt standing in front of the kitchen sink was hard to describe. As soon as I had made that realisation about making a purpose out of the bruises, I leapt at my piano. The paper was scribbled on late into the night and past the pizza. I needed to get this out of my system.

No questions were asked by Josh about the state of the kitchen, but he knew that I was going through a bad day. I thanked him as he offered to clean it up, the piano filling the apartment as he did so. Before he went into bed, I had completed the notes. I sat there effortlessly playing the melody over and over as I hummed and closed my eyes. 

“We should play this at Newport.” Josh interrupted softly.

I continued to play but with less force, the volume decreasing as I opened my eyes and took in his words. We had a show coming up to showcase ourselves to the rest of the label but most importantly to formally introduce our signed selves to our audience. It wasn’t about impressing anybody. We were already backed by a record company. It was about being in the moment and being a live band. Maybe this wordless melody was something that they needed to hear.

Nodding before I could fully think it through, Josh put his hand on my shoulder. My fingers paused on the keys as he made contact, my eyes glued to the piece of paper in front of me with a rough drawing of a kitchen sink on it.

“Get some sleep and show me in the morning. We can figure it out.”

Without a word, I obeyed. My hands were taken away from the keys and my notebook was closed as I found my way back into my bedroom. I heard Josh’s door go and a wave of sleep pulled me under. I was so exhausted. I hoped that the Newport show would recharge me. 

The next day was spent with Josh working on the lyrics. We weren’t forcing them, just trying out different words. Different sequences and drum patterns. It came fluently from both of us and by the show the next day, we were ready.

I took a deep breath in and looked out into the crowd. We were half way through the show with so much more to give and the feeling of pure ecstasy was slowly filing into my veins again. My fingers hovered above the first keys, the doubt making me glance over at Josh who nodded to go ahead. I let my breath out and began.

“Nobody thinks what I think.” I started, reeling off the words from my tongue as if I had been speaking them for years. 

My fingers hit the keys on the piano harder and messier, notes being missed and the tingling in my hands itching. I wasn’t in a good place, but the music was soothing my rash. I closed my eyes and let my head sway to the music before the next verse. I just let myself be. The crowd had caught on and started humming along to the waves of music, sweat trickling over my eyelids and down to my chin as I searched for something inside my brain.

Anything. Hope. Strength. Right now, I needed it. I felt like I had been tripped over by a rock and I couldn’t get myself back up but the water was rising fast. I needed help and I needed to get back up but I truly couldn’t.

Opening my eyes before the next set of words left my mouth was difficult. I wanted to stay in that moment forever and play those chords over. 

“Nobody thinks what you think.”

Then we got to my favourite part. Where I could close my eyes again. I felt safe when I could close them, being in the darkness but still hearing my way around. I could hear people singing, yelling, cheering. The piano was soft and the drums were quiet. The high keys twinkled in my ears. I could feel the heat rising into my cheeks once again, the backing track kicking in as I stood from the piano with my microphone in hand. 

Part of me was terrified to do this next part. Part of me asked why I wanted to do it. There is no meaning for this one, though. Not like Holding On To You. Right now, this next stunt was just for myself. I wanted my heart to beat faster. I wanted to be scared. I wanted to be in control.

“Help me out.” I muttered after I put the microphone down, only the first few rows hearing me.

I looked over to Josh who was still drumming, focusing on me as if he was a nervous Mother on her son’s first day of school. I felt like that too.

My shirt was pulled off over my head, the cold breeze hitting my chest and bare back. Then my shoes. Then my socks. I stood in front of the crowd in the centre, pulling a red mask out of my back pocket. My eyes scanned the room and found some people at the back who looked as if they were from the label, their heads nodding along and taking in the atmosphere.

I hopped down into the pit and climbed the barricade once again, hands grabbing at my jeans and bare arms. Pulling the mask over my head, I felt at home. I felt protected. Leaning forward, I was caught by the crowd and I started to clamber over their sweaty bodies towards the back of the room. 

Every muscle in me ached for me to stop, to just let go and fall to the ground and stop crushing these poor people. But with every hand that grabbed me and pulled be forward, I took in a breath and reached out for another. It was as if I was swimming in this pool of the feeling I had created with this music. They understood me and I wanted to celebrate that… but right now, I just needed to get through the show. 

At the end of the show, I was exhausted. Mark hopped around the place and showed us various shots he took, his words telling us about how he was excited to upload the videos to our YouTube. Label people thanked us and congratulated us. People came and went and Josh stood by my side, speaking on behalf of me.

“Come on, let’s go home.” I heard Josh say, patting my back as the people around us continued to work and pack up.

I ignored his request. Instead, I headed towards the stage again. I didn’t know Josh was following and I didn’t care at that point, but I needed to see this place again. The lights were off and the house lights were dim. The floor was empty. The drums and piano were gone. It was just a stage. Just a stage that we were standing on. No one was there but us.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” Josh asked, joining me by my side. “I hope we can play here again one day.”

Nodding in agreement, I sat down and crossed my legs. I took a deep breath in and let it out. I looked out into the empty venue and imagined all those people who were here only 20 minutes ago. All for us.

“They’re out there, Josh.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his head turn to me. He studied my position and what had my attention before sitting beside me, his knees up to his chest.

“They’re waiting for us.”

Josh looked out into the emptiness, “Who’s waiting for us?”

“Our fans. Our friends. Our people.”

He smiled, “Our clique.”

I mirrored his facial expression as I looked to him, “Our skeleton clique.”

We sat there in silence as we took in the events of the evening. The emotions that whizzed around my brain onstage were slowly taking their places and keeping quiet at the back. I didn’t feel as heavy.

“We need to go on tour.”

And we did. We needed to go on tour. Before we went home that night, we trudged through the battlefield of the empty floor in the venue. Pieces of confetti filled the space, crushed plastic cups and the odd ticket. Then, among all of the small pieces of coloured paper, there was a sign. A simple sign on A4 with two simple words on them. Thank you.

Oh, but you have no idea how much I need to thank you for.


	26. Twenty Six

Australia. America. Europe. Asia. We were conquering these places city by city and our family was growing.

I’m sorry for not writing. It’s been a slippery slope of darkness and light and I found myself needing to write to you less and less. Don’t get me wrong, I still need you. I had just found a few other ways of processing things. But, after all that’s happened, I’m here and I feel strong and I want to sing about that strength. Our album, Vessel, was incredibly popular. We gained fans from all parts of the world. All ages. It was this collective group of people who understood. They knew what we meant and where we had been and they wanted to know where to go next with us. It was incredible.

They wanted to meet us. Meet and greets were set up and we would hear stories similar to our own. We had happiness, sadness, excitement and just pure awe. They told us their names and birthdays and why they were a part of our story. If anything, we were meeting them.

CDs were signed and pictures were taken, but my favourite thing to do was surprise our fans. Everyday before our show we would drive past the line and I’d ask the driver to slow down, just so I could see every single one of them and admire them. They were here for us and I would never believe it. They were beautiful. They were the few, the proud and the emotional.

One day, I asked if we could drive to the venue earlier in the morning. Josh sipped on his coffee as I directed the driver to pull up around the corner from the venue, our door popping open as I pulled up my hood and slipped my sunglasses on. It’s funny to think that people know my face, probably better than I would ever. Josh did the same and we snuck around the corner, joining the end of the queue of about 10 people. We stood there for about ten minutes before the person in front of us turned around with a sharpie in hand, asking if we wanted a number to keep our spot safe.

The mouths dropped, the sharpie was thrown and the tears streamed down their faces. In the hour that we were there, we were hugged more times than I think we had ever been hugged in our lives. It was refreshing to be able to see them like this, instead of a controlled environment backstage. It felt normal. We asked their names and where they were from and what their jobs were, some of them replying that they were studying music or art because of us. That got to me. We had been a part of their story.

Unfortunately, we did have to leave them. We ventured into the venue to soundcheck and relax before the rush, our phones buzzing like crazy at the photos we were being tagged in on social media. Josh laughed at them and made sure to like every single one, his coffee turning stone cold. 

He never let his coffee go cold. 

If you think about it, a lot of this music comes from darkness if not all of it. We used this music to pull each other back and it stuck, like writing Guns for Hands for Josh. The drumming battle was a thing now and it was celebrated by people. To us, it was still that battle between our demons at that time in our lives. Trees to me is still a call out in the middle of a forest for that question. Addict With A Pen is still that rush of words I found after I had struggled. Friend, Please is still full of those words Josh shared with me when I needed him to save me. 

When I look back at that night at the station, I wonder how we ended up meeting. There are hundreds of different train stations which we could have gone to. But somehow, we ended up at that one. Now, we were facing our fears. The crowd were cheering, the platforms we were kneeling on being held tightly by the clique. That’s what we call them. The single drum being held in front of us was being drenched in water by a member of our tour team, and the lights were almost blinding me. The drumsticks were handed to me as I fully stood from my crouching position, and I could see it. I could see hope. I could see a room full of people who used the music me and Josh had made so that they wouldn’t have to visit a train station for that very reason we needed to a few years ago. 

Then I looked over to Josh, who was doing the same as me. Standing tall, drumsticks held tightly. He had come so far and grown as a musician, and I was so proud of him. We never talk about that night to anyone but each other. No one knows how we met. We want it to stay like that, because it was so special for us. We saved each other without even realising we were doing it. Now we had gotten to this point. We had picked ourselves up after each fall and focused on the good stuff.

The music kept building and the crowd were waiting. Waiting for that moment. Waiting for the memory to look back on and to say with every ounce of confidence in them that they were glad they were alive. I gave the dreamers below us a cheer as the goosebumps settled, mine and Josh’s eyes meeting as the drumsticks were hit to the beat. 

Then, at the exact moment that the first stick hit the drum, the confetti canons exploded and the water flew everywhere. A deafening sea of noise below us erupted and fuelled out bodies, the colour of the lights reflecting in their eyes. We were so happy to be there. We were so happy to be alive.

And when the music ended and the last flakes of confetti fell, we held our drumsticks in the air and smiled. We were here. We were home. We did it.

We were twenty one pilots, and so were they.

Thank you for letting me tell you our story.


End file.
